We'll Always Have Venice
by Paper-Whore
Summary: While holidaying Erik and Christine fell madly in love. Five years on, Christine decides to move with her son to Paris– Erik's home. Erik never thought he'd see her again and never with a child she claims is his!
1. Chapter 1

**We'll Always Have Venice**

Thanks to my Beta for helping with the little scenes. Here's to the Last Brisbane Show and watching interviews on the Internet!

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

_Five years ago_

Christine looked out at the busy streets and canals of Venice below her and sighed. Her fingers fisting in the curtains, she shook her head. Why had she decided to come to Venice – during the Carnivale – a time of revelry and excess – when she was in need of a quiet place to stay and recover…and hide?

She laughed quietly, sadly to herself as she went to get her jewellery and mask. What precisely was she recovering from? Work or a broken heart? She had been asking herself that question for the last two weeks of her holiday and was no closer to finding the answer.

It was Raoul's fault that she was too tired; almost too tired to go out tonight among the masked partygoers of Venice. If he hadn't decided to leave her, furious that she was putting her work before him, she would not have had to lose herself in her work to drown out her pain. It was all a case of the pot calling the kettle black!

When she met Raoul, she was eighteen, just starting university. The handsome and older medical intern who was determined to become a surgeon instantly besotted her. Raoul, however, spent long hours at the hospital, working double shifts and being constantly on call.

Christine, meanwhile, was just as determined to make a good impression on the editors at the paper where she worked as a journalist. And so, when she finished university, their relationship slowly degraded, both too determined to succeed and focus on their work to be a couple. And so, after a large row – with Raoul accusing Christine of putting her work first – the couple went their separate ways. Five years surrendered.

It had taken her almost six months to realise, but when she almost couldn't get out of bed because of exhaustion and her heart no longer ached, Christine finally realised that it was time to take a holiday. And as such, she had arranged a ten-week holiday across Europe.

Returning to the present, Christine looped her bag over her arm and headed for the door. Tonight, she would not think of Raoul. Tonight, she would enjoy herself and be carefree.

* * *

Erik looked around at the hundreds of people swarming around him with a soft smile playing at his lips. Feeling like just another tourist, he was able to comfortably move among the crowd without fear. For only two weeks a year, Erik was able to walk among people as if he belonged to their world. He held a glass of champagne and leant against the wall to watch the people around him, at peace with the world.

He unthinkingly placed the glass on a table when he saw a brunette enter the room and look nervously around. Unlike most of the other women here, she had chosen a simple mask, unadorned by plumes. Instead, it was a simple creation of a gold demi-mask covered in antique black lace that matched perfectly with her gold dress. She wandered around aimlessly, trying to get her bearings, unaware that Erik's and several other pairs of eyes followed her.

The longer he watched her, the more he felt drawn to her. Beneath her mask, Erik could just make out her dark green eyes and the gentle line of her jaw and chin. Under her beautiful exterior was a fragility that she was tying very hard to hide. She looked as if she would shatter like a porcelain doll if she were touched.

Without conscious thought, Erik crossed the room to the mysterious woman in the gold mask.

* * *

Christine stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching the couples swirl about. Part of her longed to be a part of the crowd, while another wanted to stay apart from it and far away from the handsome Italian males. She kept touching her mask as if to ensure it had not fallen off, ensuring her anonymity.

"Good evening, my lady," a sensual voice whispered in Christine's ear even as a warm hand touched her bare neck.

It was the voice rather than the touch that caused her to spin around and face the owner of the voice. The man towered over her, clearly over six feet tall, making her feel like a tiny pixie at only five feet and two inches. He offered her a glass of champagne, which she accepted with a smile of thanks. Nervously taking a sip, she maintained eye contact with the giant in front of her. She could make out none of his features under his traditional white papier-mâché mask except his midnight blue eyes.

The bubbles of the champagne went straight to Christine's head, making it spin momentarily. She looked at the man and noticed the way his blue eyes smiled down at her, crinkling at the corners. Relaxing slightly, Christine smiled and giggled and offered her free hand to the man.

Old-fashioned, the man bowed over her hand and then touched his false lips to her hand. He glanced up into Christine's dark green eyes in time to see them widen with a combination of shock, confusion and desire.

"Good evening," she responded likewise in Italian.

Unbeknownst to Christine, he smiled under his mask at her very English accented Italian. From those two simple words, he could see that she didn't have the best ability for languages. He had to give her credit for trying her best to fit in with the locals. Actually, her English-Italian was rather endearing.

"And what is my lady's name?" he asked, reverting to English for Christine's sake.

"Christine," she whispered, entranced by his French accent. She dipped a slightly wobbly curtsy, enjoying herself with this mysterious man. "And my lord?"

"Erik." He raised her hand to his lips again. "Come and dance with me, Lady Christine."

Laughing, Christine allowed Erik to use the grip he had on her hand and tuck it into the crook of his elbow before he led her onto the dance floor as the small orchestra began to play a waltz.

He effortlessly led her into the movements of the dance, his hand firm at the small of her back. Erik pulled her close to avoid her being crushed in the mass of dancers, his thighs brushing against hers as they moved together. Drawing in a deep breath, Christine shuddered when she felt her breasts press against Erik's chest.

Erik used the motion of the dance to lead Christine out of the mass and press her against one of the walls. He used his body weight to hold her in place, his hands on either side of her head, imprisoning her. Surprised that she did not feel any fear due to her current position, Christine tilted her head back to look into Erik's eyes.

"Where are you staying, milady?" he whispered against her ear as he touched his shaking fingers to her lips.

"Hotel Piave."

As she looked up into his eyes, Christine's lips rounded into an O of surprise when she saw Erik's eyes darken as he pressed his body harder against hers. She raised a shaking hand from her side to touch his papier-mâché lips. She could feel his warm breath caress her fingertips from between the small gap in the mask.

Christine moistened her lips as she divided her attention between Erik's eyes and his lips. Erik pressed his masked lips to Christine's and pulled away quickly from her, leaving her staring after him, dazed and breathing heavily.

* * *

Christine stepped out of the hotel, looking for a gondola or _vaporetti_ to take her to this evening's entertainment that offered traditional Venetian sweets and classical music. The rich gold cloak she had hired for her time in Venice covered the black evening dress with gold paisleys and, along with the mask she wore a few nights ago, hid everything but her chin. She looked at the boats on the canal and when she saw her tall masked man, standing with the _rèmo_ of a gondola, she found herself walking towards him without a thought.

Gripping her dress and cloak in one hand, she smiled brilliantly as she held her hand to him so that he could assist her over the edge. Again she was struck by their height difference; the top of her head only came to his chin. Tonight, he was wearing a black full-mask that only made his eyes appear darker and more intriguing. He saw her settled down on the bench, facing backwards so that they would be able to talk as Erik steered the gondola down the canal.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered as she held her hand out to him.

"I thought I would escort you to the Hotel Luna Baglioni this evening, my lady Christine. A woman as beautiful as you should not be wandering alone."

Christine smiled, entranced by his words, wondering how he knew where she was headed. "And how would you know what I look like with this covering half of my face?" she demanded, gesturing to the mask. She gasped in surprise when he caught her hand and raised it to his lips as they passed under a bridge.

"I know what lies beneath that mask," Erik whispered softly as he knelt in front of Christine after securing the pole in the _fòrcola _and cupped her cheeks. "A beautiful woman with divine, intelligent eyes with a passionate nature that is hidden beneath her fragile exterior."

"And what, my lord, lies beneath your mask?" she responded flirtatiously, touching Erik's mask with light fingers. "I only wish I knew the man beneath it as well as you seem to know me after only one night."

She leant forward on the bench to touch her lips to Erik's and whimpered when she only felt the cold, unfeeling mask. Her mask bumped against his, increasing her frustration. She tugged her mask from her face, throwing it at her feet and then curled her fingers around the edge of Erik's mask.

"No," he muttered, his voice laced with desperation as he pulled away from her. Wrapping his fingers gently around her wrist, Erik removed her hands from his mask.

Sobbing with frustration, Christine tried to free her hands from his firm grip. "Please, Erik. I want to feel _your _lips." She joined Erik in kneeling on the bottom of the boat, pressing her body against his. "_Please_."

Just as desperate to feel her lips against his, Erik closed her eyes with the pad of his thumb. He glanced around, weighing up the probability that someone would see his face in the soft light of dusk and whether he could trust her. "Keep your eyes closed."

She would have done anything he asked if he would just kiss her! She closed her eyes; her brows raised in anticipation as she listened to Erik untie the ribbons that kept his mask in place. When she felt his breath, rather than his fingertips against her lips as she had last night, she tilted her head back, inviting his kiss.

When his lips finally touched hers, Christine moaned and pressed her body harder against his. She tried to free her hands from Erik's firm grip, but he continued to hold her tightly. With his mask gone so that he could give in to what they both desired, he could not have her hands roving about his face and feeling what he was trying so very hard to keep from her.

With great difficulty, Erik pulled away and turned his back on her as he replaced his mask before bidding Christine to open her eyes. He tenderly retied her mask, pressed his masked lips to hers in a cold imitation of the kiss they had just shared before returning to the _rèmo_.

"Are you coming with me to the party or are you just my chauffeur?" Christine asked, her voice husky as she looked up at Erik with cloudy eyes.

Beneath his mask, Erik smiled and placed another papier maché kiss on her hand.

* * *

"Our relationship ended because we were both obsessed with our work," Christine finished with a sad sigh as she held Erik's hand as they took a gondola ride down one of the many canals. She reclined against his chest, her hands covering his as they rested on her stomach.

She was amazed at all the information she had told him in the last week or so. Erik knew everything about her. He knew her hopes, her fears and her life history. Surprisingly, all the information she had given him did not worry her. It just seemed so natural to share all that with him.

And he too had shared more information with Christine than he had with anyone. He had told her how he hated his parents and run away from home at sixteen. He told her how, while he was studying at university, he had played poker because it allowed him to pay his fees and keep to himself. He still – on occasion – played it to help finance his musical composition career.

"We both wanted to succeed so badly that we forgot about each other. Then when Raoul broke up with me, I lost myself in my work again."

"You did not think of the advantages of a relationship?"

"What advantages?" she asked in confusion, cocking her head.

"Someone to love? Someone to spend time with and talk to? Someone to start a family with? Someone to grow old with?" he suggested softly, afraid that she would not understand what he was suggesting.

He had never felt this way with another person before. He felt a connection, an affinity to her that made him want to keep her close to him. Erik looked at her, silently hoping that he had found just the person to do all those things with.

"Raoul and I had that – our jobs."

"But don't you want that?" Erik persisted. "With a man?"

"Of course I do, Erik. And I think I have found that with you. I can easily see us in forty years, still madly in love, with our grandchildren visiting us on the holidays. I would like that." The words had escaped before she could temper them. She had never confessed anything like that to Raoul and was surprised that she had just said those words to Erik after such a short period of time.

Erik looked at Christine. Perhaps he would have a child with her. She did not seem averse to the idea. He smiled as he leant in and kissed her. Perhaps they would even have more than one child!

A short time later at her hotel room, Christine stood in front of the wardrobe, her hands on her hips as she tried to figure out what to wear to dinner. She tilted her head to the side.

"There aren't that many decisions, are there, Christine?" Erik asked, a grin evident in his voice as he watched her from her bed.

She turned around and smiled. "There _are_, Erik. Do you have any idea how many clothes I bought in Paris?"

Shaking his head, Erik rolled from the bed and went to stand behind Christine. He pushed her loose hair to one side, reached over her shoulders and entwined his fingers with her own over her shoulders. "I have an idea, my darling kitten," he whispered in her ear. "Forget about picking something to wear and we will spend the night in your bed." Erik kissed down her neck and along her collarbone.

Christine smiled and stepped away from him. "Unzip me, please." When she felt the zip release, she turned around with a saucy smile and released her grip on the front of her dress, leaving her standing in front of Erik clad only in her knickers and bra.

Erik pulled her into his arms and pressed a hard, fierce kiss to her lips. Never in his life had he felt such an emotional attraction to another person. He had been trying to control his urge to make love to her since he first saw her, but now that she had given her soul and bared her life, his urges were impossible to restrain. Tonight, he would love her, heart, body and soul.


	2. Chapter 2

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 2**

_Be ready by eight-thirty._

Erik's words echoed in Christine's mind as she applied her makeup. He had not told her what to wear or where they were going; he simply had said to be ready and waiting for him in the foyer of her hotel. She was trying to figure out if she would have to wear a formal dress or period costume – which she did not have. She was still wearing her black and gold mask. Tomorrow, she would insist that Erik take her mask shopping…and underwear shopping.

A few nights ago, instead of going out to dinner Erik and Christine had decided to stay in for the night. In his haste to render her naked, Erik had ripped her underwear. Underwear shopping – inexpensive ones at that – just in case he ripped them again – was definitely on the list.

Just as she was applying her lipstick, a soft rap on the door stilled her hand. Confused, she opened the door and found a staff member holding a large box out to her. Accepting it, Christine pulled the lid from the box as she wandered back into the room. Under the tissue paper was a green and silver mask, which Christine raised to her face, noting with surprise that the green was the same colour as her eyes. She placed the mask on the bed and then turned her attention to the rest of the contents of the box. She pulled a late eighteenth century dress from the box and gasped as she ran her fingers over the fine silk of the dress.

Even without a note, she knew the gift was from Erik. She quickly pulled on the dress and mask, taking a moment to admire her reflection, amazed at the way the dress emphasised her breasts, before rushing downstairs.

As he had promised, Erik was waiting for her in the foyer of the hotel, dressed in breeches and coat in a matching dark green. Even without seeing his face, she would know his eyes and his tall build anywhere. Tonight, Erik was wearing a mask that covered only the upper-half of his handsome face.

She smiled in delight as she neared him and then ran into his arms. She laughed in delight as he caught her, spinning her to keep his balance as he tried to negotiate the panier that flared at her hips and kissing her as he lifted her to his lips.

"You didn't leave me a note," she whispered, disappointment lacing her voice as Erik lowered her to the floor. She kept her hands linked about his neck, refusing to allow him to release her.

"How could I write of my love for you when I can whisper it to you forever?" Erik tried to step back from her. Instead, Christine smiled softly, stood on her toes to grip Erik's shoulders to pull him down to her height so that she could kiss him again. "Now, my lady, we need to be on our way."

With a smile, Christine wrapped her arm through his and allowed Erik to lead her out through the water door to a waiting gondola. Tourist attractions such as gondolas had long since lost their excitement for Erik. However, he had decided to spoil Christine and show her an unforgettable time in Venice. With Christine at his side, he was beginning to appreciate the things that he had long forgotten to enjoy.

"Where are we going, Erik?" she asked as the gondolier pushed off from the edge and down the canal.

"We are going to one of the grandest events of the Carnivale. Tonight we will-" he paused in order to kiss her as they passed under a bridge.

The gondolier chuckled at their behaviour. He was well used to couples kissing whenever they punted under a bridge. It was said that for a couple to experience eternal love they needed to kiss under every bridge. Judging by the way the couple could not stop themselves from kissing, they would definitely have eternal love!

"Tonight, we will have cocktails and a formal dinner before sitting down to an opera."

"You know I can't understand much Italian, Erik," Christine reminded him, frustrated at her lack of lingual ability. She was going to complain further but had to stop to give Erik another quick kiss.

"If need be, I will happily translate for you," he whispered in her ear before dropping a kiss on the sensitive skin behind her ear. "After the opera we will dance until dawn."

Hours later, as the song of birds was breaking the silence of the morning well before the sunrise, Christine and Erik collapsed exhausted into their seats. After removing her mask, Christine dropped a few drops of solution into her eyes; she had been wearing her contact lenses far longer than she expected and her eyes were sore and dry. Erik looked on intrigued as Christine added the solution and then replaced her mask. Many of the guests had already gone home, unable to cope with the unusual expectation that they stay awake all night dancing.

"I have never had such a wonderful night, Erik," Christine sighed before she gave him a slow kiss. "Thank you for doing this for me."

Erik smiled, pleased that he had decided to wear a half-mask. If he had worn a full mask, he was fairly certain that Christine would not have given him quite so many kisses. He cupped her cheeks, his hands covering her entire face as he returned her kiss.

"Let's go back to your hotel room and have breakfast in bed," Christine suggested breathily. "Just make sure you don't rip my underwear again; I liked the ones you ruined the other day."

Erik raised a provocative eyebrow at her. "But I can rip others?"

Christine pressed her lips together as she blushed. "I'll let you know if you can." She grabbed his hand and stood. "Come on, let's go home."

* * *

Erik held out the chair for Christine, settling her at the table of a fine restaurant. He pressed a kiss to her jaw as he pushed in her chair before taking his seat. Christine looked around surreptitiously after the waiter had left with their drink order. She could not remember being in a restaurant as fine as this one.

Christine watched Erik as he glanced disinterestedly at the menu, his eyes squinted. She could not read anything and so placed the menu down. Erik closed the menu with a sharp snap and set it down on the table.

"What would you suggest?" Erik asked as the waiter reappeared at their table with their drinks. The waiter responded very quickly in Italian, too fast for Christine to understand a single word. Erik nodded and then turned to Christine before ordering the waiter's recommendations.

The waiter nodded and then left.

Christine smiled at Erik, feeling as if she were caught in a bygone time where it was normal for the man to order for the lady. Her smile broadened when Erik covered her hand with his before raising it to his lips.

* * *

"_Stop it!_" Christine squealed as she tried to push Erik away. He had started at her lips and had kissed his way down to her thighs and was now retracing his earlier path. Aware that she was extremely ticklish at her waist, he deliberately paid that part of her body a lot of attention, delighting in the way she would writhe, giggle and scream under his body. She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled his lips up to hers. She giggled as he stroked her waist with his fingertips.

"Erik," Christine said on a sigh a little later as she tilted her head back to look into Erik's dark blue eyes, "You know I only have one more day left here in Venice, right?" She grabbed his hand from the top of her left thigh and raised it to her lips. Her earlier happy mood faded as she forced herself to face reality. She shifted so that she could rest her head against Erik's chest as he twined a dark curl around his finger, her breathing in sync with his.

Erik simply nodded. She had been reminding him daily that their time together was quickly running out. Last night they had watched the closing fireworks of the carnival, Erik with his arms wrapped possessively around Christine's waist, a sense of darkness ruining their peace. Although they hadn't spoken of it, they were both aware that time was running out and the fairytale would be at an end.

The past two weeks with Christine had been beyond Erik's imaginings. With the anonymity of the Carnivale, he was able to focus entirely on Christine and not worry about being the freak with a mask. Never in his life had he thought a woman such as Christine, the little journalist from London, would be able to look past the mask and see that it hid a _man_.

"I go on to Prague the day after tomorrow, Erik," she whispered, willing the tears not to fall from her eyes.

She had promised herself that she would not have anything to do with men on her holiday. She certainly never intended falling in love with Erik. Together, under the safety of their masks, Erik and Christine had explored all the tourist sites and enjoyed many of the soirees of the carnival. Erik had also taken great delight in showing Christine some of the smaller, less known shops and restaurants.

"I know, Christine," he murmured against her hair in his French accent that still delighted her.

Feeling disappointed by his response, Christine stared at the painting on the far side of the room, refusing to be swayed by his gentle touch. She pushed out of his arms and searched the room for her clothes.

Erik watched her sudden shift in mood in confusion. In the past two weeks, he had experienced quite a few of Christine's moods and he had finally grown tired of them. He sighed and began to get dressed.

She went into the bathroom to pull on her clothes and fix her hair and looked expectantly at Erik.

"I think I'll go back to my hotel now, Erik."

He nodded as he continued to button his shirt.

Christine stepped around the bed and gave him a quick kiss, which to her heartache, he did not return. She looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes filling with tears as she headed for the doors.

"Cancel your plans. Stay with me here," Erik said suddenly as he stalked towards the door. "Don't leave me." He ripped her hand from the doorknob, spun her around and pressed her between the door and his body. "Don't go, Christine."

Looking up at him in surprise, Christine simply nodded and twined her fingers in his hair before she stood on her toes to kiss him.

* * *

"Now, what are your plans for today?" Erik asked, handing Christine a cup of tea in bed. He placed his cup of coffee on the table beside the bed and then climbed back in beside her. He handed the newspaper to Christine and watched her attempt to read the front page, a smile curling up the corners of his mouth.

With a deep sigh, Christine moulded herself against Erik's side, careful not to spill her tea. She kissed his neck. "I would like to stay here with you today. I don't think I have the energy to move from this spot."

Erik gave a shy, slow grin and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. Resisting the urge to chastise her laziness, Erik simply said, "Well then, if that's what you want, then we'll spend the entire day in bed."

Christine laughed and pulled off her glasses before resting her head on Erik's shoulder as she sipped her morning cup of tea. She traced lazy circles on his chest as they spoke softly. "What is that article about, Erik?" she asked, pointing vaguely to the paper at the foot of the bed.

Erik picked up the paper, squinted at the typing and shrugged. "Why would we talk about the news when we can lie here and talk about more pleasant things?"

Christine smiled and kissed him again.

"Come home to Paris with me, Christine," Erik whispered intensely as he shifted his weight to cover her body with his own as he looked down at her.

Smiling sadly, Christine reached up and tenderly stroked the masked side of his face. She whimpered sadly when he grabbed her hand and pulled it from his mask. Not to be deterred, she pressed a desperate kiss on his lips. "I wish I could, Erik. I would very happily live with you. But I have my job in London." She gave a sad chuckle. She had loved the time she spent in Paris and, if it were not for her job, she would very happily accept Erik's offer. "You've heard me speak French; I am terrible. I

wouldn't be able to survive!"

"You will learn French at my side in no time."

"Then teach me now, Erik," she begged huskily as she wrapped her arms and legs tightly around his body.

* * *

The handsome Venetian continued to stare at Christine even though Erik was standing at her side, refusing to leave her. He saw the way the man was looking at her intently, undressing her with his eyes. What infuriated him even further was that Christine saw the way the man looked at her and did nothing to show him that she was not interested.

Reluctantly, Erik left her alone at their table so that he could get drinks. It only took the other man a moment to move in on his territory. Christine followed Erik with her eyes only to have her attention pulled away when the man who had been watching her stepped in her line of sight. She gave him a half smile and then looked quickly away.

"Would you like to dance, baby?" he asked in Italian, gesturing to the dance floor where numerous other couples were dancing, their bodies pressed against each other.

Guessing his question, Christine shook her head. She had no idea what he had just asked her. It wouldn't matter what he had in mind for her, Erik would not be happy about it.

"Come on." He held his hand out to her.

"No."

"Please dance with me."

_"No!"_

Accepting her refusal with a great deal of reluctance, the Venetian left her alone. When Erik returned with two glasses and a bottle of champagne, Christine gave him a bright smile. The smile Erik gave her did not meet his eyes. He poured her a glass of champagne but said very little for the rest of the night.

Christine returned with a sullen Erik to his hotel room. She watched with something akin to horror as he shut the door behind him with a loud bang before repeating the action with the bathroom door. Unsure why he was so angry, Christine undressed, pulled the pins from her hair and waited for him to return to the bedroom. After ten minutes of waiting, she knocked forcefully on the door. It was immediately flung open, a red-faced Erik glaring down at her from his full height.

"Do you have a problem?" she demanded, spoiling for a fight.

Looking down his nose, Erik pushed past her, stalking into the bedroom.

Judging his silence to be agreement, Christine pressed on, her own anger rising even further at Erik's treatment of her. "Well, since I've obviously done something that you're peeved about, why don't you tell me it is?"

Erik turned around slowly to face Christine; unable to believe she had no idea what was going on. "I should have known you would prefer the Italians."

"What?"

"Yes," he pressed on, his indignation mounting. "Don't think that I didn't notice the way the two of you looked at each other. You waited until I had gone to get some drinks before inviting him over with those eyes of yours!"

"What! That's where you're wrong, Erik. He asked me to dance – well, I think he did – and I refused. I did absolutely nothing to encourage him. How could you even think I would encourage another man while I'm with you?" she demanded, unaware that the volume of her voice had risen with her anger. "I'm not interested in other men!"

"What normal woman wouldn't be seduced by an Italian, hmm? You say that you didn't encourage him, but you didn't do much to _dis_courage him. When you are with me, I will not have other men looking at you, Christine! Or you looking at them!" he shouted at her.

"You don't own me, Erik; I don't belong to you or any man," she snapped, turning away from him.

"You're mine, Christine," Erik said with more fervour than he intended.

Christine threw him a quick look over her shoulder as she continued to the bathroom. She had no intention of acknowledging that with a response.

Frustrated by her anger and her lack of reaction, Erik stalked across the room in two long strides, grabbed her shoulders and spun her around, kissing her roughly. Christine stood immobile, refusing to allow his angry passion to ease the pain of his implied insults. With her hands trapped between their bodies she could not push him away. When Erik pulled away to look at her, wondering why she refused to kiss him, Christine freed her hands and gave his shoulders a violent shove. She folded her arms angrily over her breasts and tipped her head back to glare at him.

He looked at her anxiously as he waited for her to say something. The need to be reassured that he hadn't lost the woman of his dreams was too great to be ignored. He didn't want her to think he had no control of his temper, and he certainly didn't want to lose her to another man. He stepped away from her, unable to pull his eyes away from hers.

As if sensing that Erik needed her to comfort him, she attempted to ignore her own anger and talk to him. "For your information, I wanted nothing to do with that man. I I'm not interested in another man; I love you, Erik. You're the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Reassured, Erik pulled Christine into his arms and simply held her for several long moments before his lips found hers and he buried his fingers in her hair at the base of her head. He pulled back without warning, looking at her slightly confused before retrieving a hairpin she had obviously missed when she took her hair down.

Christine laughed as Erik threw the pin over his shoulder and pushed him towards the bed.

* * *

Christine rolled onto her side and gazed at Erik as he slept on. She smiled. Erik was in his usual position of lying on his back with his right arm thrown over his head and his left arm resting on the cushion on his stomach.

She burrowed closer to his body and rested her head on his shoulder. Ever the light sleeper, Erik woke when he felt Christine shift beside him. His eyes blinked open as his right arm instinctively wrapped around her shoulders. He kissed her head and went back to sleep.

Hours later, Christine tried to slip out of bed but Erik wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her against his body, preventing her from leaving. He kissed down her neck, seducing her to stay with him a little longer.

* * *

Erik watched as Christine ran naked through the bedroom in search of the dressing gown she had been wearing before they went to bed. Disappointed, he watched her tie the sash tightly around her waist, hiding her breasts from his view.

It had been eight weeks since he had first met Christine at the Carnivale in her black and gold mask. He never imagined that the quiet little brunette he met had such a passionate nature hidden beneath the exterior.

Christine sidled over to the bed and lay on top of Erik. "I'm going to have a shower. Come with me." She grabbed his hand and pulled him from the bed, heading for the bathroom.

Once the water was heated, she dropped her robe and stepped into the shower, waiting for Erik to join her. She cocked her head in confusion when he continued to stand just outside the shower, looking at her with indecision.

"Come on, Erik."

Finally surrendering, Erik stepped into the shower, his arms wrapping around Christine's body before snatching the soap from her hands.

"Erik, you don't intend to shower in your mask, do you? Take it off."

Since she had met him at the Carnivale, Christine had never seen Erik without his mask. In the first two weeks, she had thought nothing of it; she believed that he was just taking the whole Carnivale thing very seriously. However as the time went on, she began to wonder why he did not want to show her what was under that plain piece of leather.

One day she had touched his mask, and with lightning fast reflexes, Erik had grabbed her hand, preventing her from removing the mask. That was the last time she had touched his mask without asking him first. When they were making love, if she ever touched his mask, he would gently grasp her hand, kiss her fingers and place her hand on another part of his body. Out of bed however, was another matter. When his mind was not concerned with ensuring her pleasure, should her hand go anywhere near his mask, Erik was quick to stop her and never quite as tenderly as he would when they were in bed…or anywhere else in the hotel room.

"I will not remove my mask, Christine." He rinsed the soap from his hands as he looked at her with furious blue eyes.

"Why not?"

Erik growled, pushed the door of the shower so hard that the glass shattered and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He turned his back on Christine; unable to look at the woman who had, in his mind, just betrayed him. He caught his reflection in the mirror and threw the rubbish bin into it. The last thing he wanted to see was his hated mask staring back at him.

He was so furious with her that he did not care that she no longer saw the man that was not entirely he. He could no longer pretend that he was the master of seduction that he pretended to be. By ordering him to remove his mask, she had stripped him bare. She had taken away the only thing that ever gave him any comfort.

"Erik?"

"Damn you, Christine. I thought I made it clear that you were never to touch my mask! You stupid female! Why? Why could you not have accepted my response when I said I did not want to remove my mask?" He took a break in his tirade to draw breath. "You tell me that you love me and yet you do this to me! _Damn you, Christine_!"

Terrified, Christine stepped past Erik, grabbing her robe as she went. Blinded by her tears, she tripped over the hem and fell, cutting her hands, knees and feet on the broken glass. Spinning around quickly, she watched a furious Erik stalk towards her, his face red and his hands clenched.

With a squeak, she pulled herself to her feet and ran to the wardrobe. She pulled her suitcase out and began bundling her clothes in, too distressed to fold them neatly. In less than ten minutes, she was dressed and packed and waiting at the door.

She turned around to say something to Erik – she still had not figured out what to say – and paused when she saw him hunched over on the floor, sobbing and cursing her. She gripped her suitcase tightly and pulled open the door.

It closed with a final snap behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 3**

_Present Day_

"Antonio."

Three-year-old Antonio looked up from stomping the crayons into the rug under his little table and looked at his mother, his dark green eyes flashed and his lips turned downed with anger. He grabbed the crayons from the table and threw them on the floor.

"Antonio, stop it," Christine snapped as she looked up from staring blankly at her laptop and fixed her son with a dark frown. She watched in despair as he continued to jump on the crayons, pressing the wax into the carpet of the rug. "_Antonio!_" she shouted and then winced when his anger quickly dissolved into sadness.

His lip turned down as his eyes filled with tears. He threw himself down onto the floor as he began to cry loudly.

"Antonio, pick up your crayons and then come and give me a cuddle." After coping with her son's temper – which was so similar to his father's – for so many years, Christine was able to deal easily with the situation. However, it still broke her heart to see how quickly Antonio's anger could turn to sadness.

She watched with a doting smile as he picked up the larger pieces of crayon, still crying and then grudgingly went to his mother arms. She pulled him up onto her lap and pressed a big kiss to his cheek.

"Why did you stomp on your crayons?" she asked in a sweet voice as she squeezed him in a tight hug.

"My digger's horrible."

Christine looked over at Antonio's table and shook her head. Her son's attempt at colouring in a digger, by her standards was well advanced for his age. Antonio's abilities to draw and colour in were far better than she ever could and was just another skill that he had apparently inherited from his father.

"Get me your drawing and we will see if we can fix it."

Antonio jumped off Christine's lap, collected his drawing and some crayons and thrust them at Christine as he climbed back up onto her lap. She tilted her head as she looked at the drawing, trying to figure out what was wrong with it.

"Where will the driver sit?" he asked with a frown as he examined his colouring. He poked the perfectly coloured cabin, disgustedly with a little finger.

"What if we used white to colour a window for the driver?" Christine suggested. "He needs to be able to see where he's going." Antonio screwed up his face, grabbed the crayon and scribbled over his digger. "Ant-"

Christine watched her son with a wistful smile as he went to work on an activity book. She swallowed tears as she looked at his square little face, his green eyes and black hair. Whenever he concentrated hard, his brows would furrow, causing two little dimples above his eyebrows. She couldn't remember if he had inherited that from his father. Rising from her chair, Christine sat on the floor next to Antonio.

"Will we make some muffins and then go to the park for a picnic when they're cooked?" she asked, hoping to distract him.

Antonio looked up from his maze with bright eyes, all traces of anger and sadness gone. "Can I help?"

"Absolutely, bubby!" she replied quickly in a bright voice. Climbing to her feet, she scooped Antonio into her arms and carried him to the kitchen. "We can both have a beater!"

Antonio squirmed out of Christine's arms and ran the rest of the way to the kitchen.

* * *

Erik closed the book by Imelda Jones with a pleased smile. He pulled his glasses off and put his mask back on. The author knew the events of the Carnivale and the sights of Venice so intimately! If her biography didn't say she was English, he would almost believe that she was Italian. Only someone who had spent a great deal of time in Venice would be able to describe the place so clearly. You didn't get that kind of information from books or the Internet.

He could hardly wait until the next book in the series. However, since Enrico and Isabella's story was written almost three years ago, he was not hopeful that the next book would be written anytime soon. He just hoped that Imelda overcame her writer's block soon.

* * *

Christine dug her spoon into the tub of melted choc-chip ice cream and pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. She normally wore contact lenses, but late at night, at the end of a long day looking after her son and sitting at the computer, her eyes were usually too sore not to wear her glasses. Antonio had been in bed for four hours, leaving Christine alone to work on her novel. She desperately wanted to go to bed, but she was so behind, she had to ignore the fact that she was close to falling asleep in front of her computer. She typed away furiously and ate another spoonful of ice cream.

It was times like these, with only her computer and her three-year-old son for company that Christine questioned the wisdom of resigning from her position at the newspaper when she found out that she was pregnant with Antonio. But when she thought of going back to working the hours she had been years ago, she knew she had made the right decision. Becoming a novelist and working from home was the right thing to do.

The next in the series of her novels set during the Venetian Carnivale, had been a long time coming. She had tried very hard for the last two and a half years to write Valentino and Francesca's story, but hadn't been able to get beyond halfway.

Just typing anything that came to mind, Christine wrote a scene between Enrico and Valentino, where Isabella's husband gave his younger friend some advice on dealing with women.

_Enrico looked at his friend as he pulled off his dark blue mask and set it on the guilt wine table beside his velvet chair. He ran his fingers through his black hair, disordering the curls as he unfolded his muscular frame to his full height of over six feet and began to pace the room in long, elegant strides. The damask of his dark blue and silver eighteenth century coat swished softly as he moved._

"_You have been following Francesca around for the last week and yet you have not had any luck with her?" Enrico asked, looking down at his friend with unimpressed midnight blue eyes._

_Valentino lowered his pale blue eyes, unable to meet his friend's bold gaze. He too pulled off his emerald and gold mask and threw it across the room. It wasn't for want of trying that he hadn't been able to bed Francesca. The divine blonde was incredibly prudish for a woman taking part in the masquerade._

"I have tried numerous times to get her to take off those damned clothes and screw her but I haven't had any luck. You wouldn't think it would be so hard to bed a woman," Valentino answered candidly. Belatedly, he realised that Isabella may be nearby and looked around the room, searching for his friend's wife and his would be lover's best friend.

"_Are you out of your mind to talk about my wife's friend like that?" Enrico demanded, thrusting a glass of wine at Valentino. "If you talk like that in front of Francesca, I'm not surprised that you haven't made any progress with her."_

"_I'm running out of time to bring her around to my way of thinking. Once the carnival is over, I may not be able to convince her that she belongs to me."_

_Enrico shook his head. Who would have thought that his closest friend was such an idiot? Valentino had always had the best luck with women. Well, that was until last year when Enrico had married Isabella. But, Enrico thought with a defeated shake of his dark head, the women that Valentino had always bedded were never opposed to spending some time with his friend._

_Enrico sighed, dropped back into his chair before he fixed his friend with a fierce gaze. "Listen to me and listen carefully, Vale. Send her a costume and matching mask that will perfectly compliment her colouring. Maybe something in a gold or pale blue. Ask her to one of the balls, but do not sign the note. Are you following me so far?"_

_Valentine gave a curt nod._

"_At the ball, you will be wearing a full mask so that she won't be able to see who you are. You will approach her and be the most charming you have ever been. Do not say or do anything to give your identity away. Try and convince her to meet you the following day and make sure you both wear your masks. Once you are certain you have her under your spell, then unmask yourself."_

_Enrico took a large swallow of his wine before he continued. "When she realises who you are, throw yourself at her feet, apologise to her profusely and tell her that you are a fool who loves her so deeply that you had to do anything to make her your wife. _

"_Anything she hurls at you, you take. You make sure you acknowledge her feelings." Being married to Isabella for a year had given him a thorough insight to way his wife – and women – thought._

Christine put her glasses on her head and wiped the tears from her eyes. She had put so much of herself in her first novel. The time she spent with Erik in Venice all those years ago had been an inspiration for her stories. She had tried to block out the thoughts, but realised how unhealthy it was. The only way she could think to deal with it was to put it in her novel; that was her catharsis. This scene, where Enrico offers his friend advice was inspired by one of the gifts that Erik had offered her during their time that it hurt Christine to write.

Tonight would be just another night that she would cry herself asleep; wishing that things had turned out differently, that she and Erik had stayed together. She looked up at one of the many photos on the wall of her and Erik in Venice and began to sob again. Numerous times she had considered removing the photos and forgetting all about those wonderful weeks she had shared with Erik. But every time she looked at her son, she knew that would be impossible. There was no way to turn time back. She just had to accept that this was her life; that Erik would not be part of her life. She wiped her eyes and closed the computer.

* * *

Running between the teepees of the playground in Kensington Garden, Antonio laughed and waved to Christine as he hid from her. She smiled as she watched her son happily playing on the playground. Christine glanced up from her notebook where she was taking notes for her novel and sighed.

He was beautiful. The way he smiled at her when he was up to no good was just like his father. He stopped and looked at Christine and then at the couple who was sitting on the bench next to Christine.

He returned to the play equipment for a few more minutes before returning to Christine, his black hair plastered with sweat to his forehead. Immediately, Christine handed him a bottle of water and ruffled his hair.

"Mummy, why does he have a daddy and mummy?" Antonio asked with a sad little face as he looked at the boy and his parents. "Why don't I have a daddy?"

Tears filled Christine's eyes and she quickly blinked them away, determined to keep her feelings from her son. She pulled him onto his lap, hugged him tight and kissed him. "You do have a daddy, bubby," she whispered. "But he and I were very mad at each other and decided that we wouldn't be able to live together. He lives overseas, remember? Just because Daddy's not here with us, does not mean he doesn't love you. And I love you lots and lots, bub. I think I love you enough for Daddy and me!"

* * *

Late at night, Erik searched through the boxes in the top of his wardrobe, looking for the box in which he kept his older scores. He was still composing his musical and thought he would be able to put the old song in it. He eventually found the box he was looking for, and pulled it from the shelf.

A Venetian mask fell to the floor.

Picking it up carefully, Erik turned the mask in his hands; assessing the state of it, even as he recalled the time he wore it. It was that night he played the gondolier with Christine.

Consumed by thoughts of Christine and the time they spent together, Erik hid the mask in the back corner of the wardrobe. He wished he had not found it; it brought back far too many thoughts and feelings he had thought were long dead.

He had to get out of there and away from that mask and the feelings it stirred.

Walking along the river in the early hours of the morning, Erik enjoyed the peace and solitude. As he walked, he composed a song for his musical in his mind. Expecting to be the only person about at that time of morning, Erik was surprised to see a petite, dark haired woman walking in the opposite direction.

From the distance, Erik was certain Christine was coming towards him. He stopped walking and stared at her. The woman did not seem to notice him until she was close enough for Erik to see her eyes. They were blue.

He sighed in disappointment. For the first time in years, he had come so close to finding Christine. How he missed her! He shook his head and turned in the direction of his house, unable to find the solace he had expected by the river.


	4. Chapter 4

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 4**

"Why are you being so difficult, Valentino?" she demanded of her character with a weary sigh. "You aren't helping; it isn't nice." Christine glared at the computer screen and rested her chin on the heel of her hand.

Frustrated that she was not making any impressive progress with her novel, Christine began to consider a change of scenery. Perhaps one of the reasons she wasn't making any progress was because she hadn't been any further a field than Brighton since Antonio was born. Maybe it was time to take another writing holiday with her son. A few relaxing days at Brighton might be just what she needed.

While lurking on one of the websites dedicated to her book, one particular comment complaining about the long wait between books and the expectation that it 'had better be really long, really good…or both' was one of the final straws that set Christine planning her move out of London. A holiday out of the city would not be enough.

She continued to frown at the words on the screen and failed to find any inspiration. Sighing, she connected to the Internet and began to search for properties out of England. She had considered moving back to Bath, where she grew up as a child before moving to London with her parents as a teenager, but decided that would not be far enough away from England to free her of her writer's block and to escape from her life in London.

A move overseas was in order. She would have liked to move to Venice; hopefully that would offer her enough inspiration. But the thought of going to the place where she had spent so much time with Erik was too difficult. She would always remember the time she spent with him fondly, however that was something she did not really want to relive.

Before she knew it, Christine was typing Paris into the computer and searching through the results.

* * *

Carefully watching her son from her position a few metres away with the trolley, Christine watched as Antonio ran back to her, a bag of biscuits in his hand. She ruffled his hair as she took the bag from him and sent him off after the next item on her shopping list. Grasping Antonio around the hips, she lifted him up so he would be able to reach the box of tea on a higher shelf. Still holding him, Christine held him over the trolley so he would be able to drop the box.

"Christine?"

Carefully returning Antonio to the ground, Christine looked up to see who was calling out to her. Her face paled when she realised that one of her former colleagues from the paper was standing a few steps away, a shopping basket hanging at her side. Uncertainly, she reached for Antonio's hand and held him close.

"Tanya," Christine greeted her nervously. She had not seen the gossip column writer since she left the newspaper five years ago.

"I didn't know you were still in London. I haven't heard anything about you in years…and I guess I now know why. You've got a child." Christine nodded and pulled Antonio into her arms. "He's a beautiful boy. Does he look like his father?"

Christine frowned. Tanya probably thought that she was being subtle, but she clearly forgot that she was talking to a former journalist. She knew that Tanya was trying to figure out her relationship with Antonio's father.

"He looks like me," Christine said quietly as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She turned her attention to her son, playfully nuzzling his cheek. "Don't you, bubby?"

Antonio grinned and nodded against Christine's shoulder, embarrassed.

"How does his father feel about that? I know my partner's happy that our daughter looks like him."

"He doesn't know Antonio." Christine glared at the journalist, wondering if an article on her single motherhood was going to appear in tomorrow's paper. No one knew about the birth of her son; she did not put an announcement in the paper. Who would want to know about Antonio's birth?

Tanya's eyes widened for a moment and then her eyes took on a considering gleam. She could sense a sordid story behind Christine's simple statement and wanted to get to the bottom of it. It was all very fascinating to think that the little boy did not know his own father. Maybe Christine didn't even know who was the boy's father!

"He doesn't know his own son! What happened? Did you fall into bed with the first man you met after you broke up with your doctor?" She laughed as if to assure Christine that it was a joke. When she saw Christine's guilty expression, Tanya's brown eyes widened in amazement. "You did! Do you even remember his name?"

Christine's eyes filled with tears at Tanya's harsh words. Did she honestly believe that she could forget about that magical time she spent with Erik? She would never be able to forget Erik, let alone his name! At least Tanya had the grace to look remorseful for her outburst.

"No wonder you left the paper," Tanya continued, unaware of Christine's pain. "All those sick days make sense now; we'd all wondered what was going on with you. It's good to know you were only pregnant and not dying." She smiled, trying to get Christine to relax and open up with her.

"It suppose that's what happens when you have a holiday fling with a random foreigner." Again she laughed, showing that it was all simply a joke between two former workmates. "A baby is a souvenir that you'll never forget."

Christine looked down at the top of Antonio's dark head and smiled softly. She certainly would never forget about her little keepsake from Venice. Christine knew that Tanya meant the comment to be churlish, but she could not help but agree with her. Antonio certainly was the best souvenir she could ever have wished for.

"It must've been hard to give up your promising career with the paper for a nuisance child. I don't know how you can look at him every day, knowing that you had to give everything up because of him."

"I would never think that way about my son," Christine said softly. Her position with paper was nothing compared to her role of mother to Antonio. Hugging Antonio tightly to her chest, Christine furiously blinked back her tears. "I need to keep going with my groceries. Goodbye, Tanya."

Without another word, Christine began to walk away. In the next aisle, she gave Antonio another tight hug and set him on the ground. The opinions of her co-workers at the paper had never really bothered her…until now. She thought she would never see them again, so none of it mattered.

Tanya made it very clear that she thought that she was a tart and tomorrow morning, everyone at the paper would think the same thing. With a single look, Tanya had judged her and found her wanting. She could not bear for people she used to admire to think that way of her – or to believe that she loved Antonio any less because he was unplanned.

She could never risk running into one of her colleagues again. There was only one way to ensure that never happened.

* * *

Christine scanned the pile of letters as she and Antonio climbed the stairs to their apartment. She sighed when she saw the printed envelope from her publisher. Ripping open the envelope, Christine rolled her eyes when she saw the familiar words printed across the letter. She had missed the deadline and they were again writing to her to determine when she would have the manuscript to them so that they could publish the next book.

As much as she wished she could escape from the contract she had signed years ago, she knew that was impossible. She had to get the story finished. The only way she would be able to do that was if she escaped London and her past. Tanya's comments still weighed heavily on her mind and prevented anything creative from flowing from her fingers.

Determined to make the next deadline, Christine decided to send an email to the realtor in Paris.

With plans in place for her move to Paris and her publisher harassing her, Christine decided to head to Brighton for a few days with Antonio. Her little boy loved escaping London and playing on the beach and eating Brighton Rock. So, mid-week, the pair left London to enjoy the sun without the crowds.

On the train, Christine wrote the occasional scene in the notebook she always carried even as she played with Antonio. Antonio wiggled his fingers, wanting the pen Christine was using so that he could draw in her notepad.

"What are you drawing?" Christine asked with a smile as she touched the paper. She could easily make out the picture of a woman and a little boy sitting on the rocky beach eating what looked like Brighton Rock.

"You and me eating lollies."

Christine smiled again. "We'll have to get lots of Brighton Rock, won't we, bubby? We'll eat it until our tummies pop!"

Antonio grinned and nodded eagerly.

A short time later, Christine spread the towels out onto the pebbled Brighton beach and grabbed her son's wrist to prevent him from running into the water. She sat down on the towel and slathered sunblock over Antonio's body and then pulled on his shirt and hat before putting sunscreen on her own body. Self-consciously, she pulled her swim shorts down to cover the top of her thighs and that birthmark she hated.

"Stay here for a little while, bubby. You need to wait before you go into the water or the sunscreen will wash off."

Antonio's face screwed up as he plonked down onto his cartoon character towel. Bored, he began to throw pebbles at the seagulls. When Christine chastised him, he surrendered with a pout and looked around.

"Mummy, can we go on rides?" he asked, pointing to the Brighton Pier.

Christine smiled dotingly at her son and pressed a kiss on his head. "I would like to write more of my story today, bubby. But _tomorrow_, we can go on some rides. Shall we get some Brighton Rock to eat on the train ride home?"

The train ride home, Christine thought with a sigh. She and Antonio would be going back to London the day after tomorrow; back to the dreary world of city life and people who thought so little of her. This would be the last time that they would be able to holiday at Brighton before their relocation to Paris.

Antonio nodded enthusiastically. "_Now _canI swim?"

Christine laughed, grabbed Antonio's hand and raced down to the water's edge.

* * *

Antonio sat on a suitcase, watching Christine pack a bag of toys and activities for the short flight to Paris. He hugged a stuffed toy to his chest and tilted his head in confusion.

"Will we come back, Mummy?"

Christine stopped her packing and sat on the suitcase next to Antonio. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and sighed. "We're not coming back to London, bubby. Remember? I don't like London anymore and I've decided that we should move to Paris."

"Will _I_ like it?" Antonio asked thoughtfully.

Christine shrugged. "I liked Paris when I was there years ago. Your daddy lived in Paris."

Antonio's face lit up at the mention of his mysterious father. "We'll go and live with Daddy?"

Tears filled Christine's eyes as she pulled Antonio onto her lap. "No, bubby. We won't be living with Daddy."

"But Daddy's there!" Antonio pouted, his green eyes darkening as he wriggled off Christine's lap and glared at her, his little face contorting with rage.

"I know what I said, Antonio," Christine snapped, losing patience with her son. "But remember I told you that Mummy and Daddy were very angry with each other. We haven't spoken to each other in a long, long time."

"Will we see Daddy?"

"Not if I can help it," Christine muttered.

"I want to see Daddy!" Antonio shouted, throwing his toy across the room. "I want to be like the other kids."

Christine watched her son run into his empty bedroom, her heart heavy.

* * *

"Are you ready to go on the plane?"

Antonio nodded and jumped to his feet, ready to run off to the doors to the aerobridge at the adjacent gate of the Heathrow International Airport.

"_Antonio_. You need to wait for Mummy." She waited for her little boy to return to her side and grab her hand, ready to drag her to the doors.

On the plane, Christine kept Antonio entertained with games and stories. She couldn't draw anything more than a stickman, but she could weave wonderful stories that could keep her son amused for almost an hour.

When the plane landed, Christine carried the sleeping Antonio into the airport. Reluctant to wake him, Christine was left with no other option but to do so, so that she could get their suitcases.

"Hold onto my hand, Ant. I don't want to lose you."

"I is not Ant, Mummy," Antonio informed Christine with a severe look. "I'm Antonio or bubby."

"Oh, I see. Sorry, bubby." She gave him a smile as she began to lead him to the doors. "Can you see the taxis?"

Pointing to the taxi rank with an excited smile, Antonio was quickly bundled into the taxi, Christine behind him.

"When are we going home, Mummy? Will we go home tomorrow?"

Christine nearly cried when Antonio spoke. She had only been out of England for a few hours and yet she felt as if her life was long forgotten. If only it were as easy to forget about her conversation with Tanya.

"No, bubby. This is going to be our new home now. Your daddy used to live here. There is a big art gallery that I'll take you to in a few days. It has some of the most famous paintings in it! And we can go on a boat on the river. We might even go up the Eiffel Tower so we can see Paris the way birds see it!"

Just mentioning Erik in passing to her son brought back that all too brief time she spent with him in Venice. She was always so careful when talking about him to Antonio. Erik didn't know that Antonio existed; she didn't want to talk too much about a man her son would never meet. She didn't want her son to think that because he didn't have a father in his life he was missing something.

She had not spoken to Erik since that day she had walked out on him after she had asked him to take off his mask. When they had met five years ago he lived in a house not far from the opera house. She didn't even know for certain that he still lived here.

When the taxi slowed to a stop, Christine pushed her thoughts away and smiled brightly at Antonio. "Look! This is our new house!" she said, torn between excitement and worry.


	5. Chapter 5

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 5**

Christine clung nervously to Antonio's hand as she led him up to his classroom. Gnawing on her lip, she looked down at her little boy with a combination of happiness and consternation that he was looking forward to interacting with other children his age. In the room, the teachers greeted Christine and Antonio and saw that the boy was quickly engaged with other children.

At the door, Christine watched with tears in her eyes as her son chatted happily in French with the other children. She had not expected him to go off so easily and happily. In fact, Christine was the one who was having trouble with the separation. She wiped her eyes and stepped out onto the path and bumped into a couple with their son.

"I'm sorry," Christine apologised in English before repeating herself in French.

"It's all right," the woman responded. "Is today your child's first day?"

Christine nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. "This is the first time my son and I have been apart. We've just moved from London; Antonio was too young for school."

"I remember when Adrien started," she said, gesturing to her son with a flick of her head, "I cried all morning."

The dark haired man beside her smiled, as if recalling the event. He gave a knowing nod. He had been forced to take the morning off from work to comfort his wife.

Christine didn't look impressed. She could easily see herself crying all morning, if not all day.

"I'm Phoebe," she said, offering her hand. "This is my husband, Gabriel. Why don't you come out for a coffee with me? It'll help pass the time until you pick up your son at lunchtime."

Christine found herself agreeing to the offer with a shaky smile, relieved that she now apparently had a friend in the city that was now her home.

* * *

Erik stared at the score in front of him, trying to decide where the next piece of music should go. He looked out the window and for the first time in five years, he felt as if Christine was nearby. Even when he had begged her, she refused to leave London. It was impossible; she was in England. She would n ever come to Paris. He could not explain the feeling.

He looked over at the large photo of himself and Christine in Venice – both in masks – that was in the centre of the mantelpiece and shook his head. Those weeks with Christine were the greatest in his life. Even though he was furious with her and the way she had thoughtlessly ordered him to take off his mask, he could not help but think about her everyday. He waited in vain for the day when he would be able to move on.

* * *

Christine strolled through the home wares shop thankful for the few hours she had to herself. She browsed the shelves, picking out photo frames, vases and cushions for her apartment. Just as she was paying for her items, a rich baritone voice made her pause. She spun around and looked wildly about her, convinced she had heard Erik's voice. She saw an incredibly tall, dark haired man with his back to her.

Her face paling, she grabbed her shopping and raced away in the opposite direction. She could not see the man's face, but she was certain it was Erik. Looking over her shoulder at the man one last time, she ran towards the exit.

Back at the apartment, Christine, her hands still shaking, set her shopping out about her. She pulled out a box of photos and sat down on the couch, trying to decide which one to put in the frame. She found a photo of Antonio and herself on a carousel in Brighton a few months ago and slipped that into the frame.

Feeling slightly more in control when she set the new frame among the others, Christine turned on her computer, ready to type. The fleeting glance at the man she was sure was Erik had inspired her to write another scene. She set the timer in the kitchen so that she would not get caught up in her writing and forget to pick up Antonio before she sat down at desk.

* * *

Erik wandered through the Louvre in the early afternoon of a workday. It was his favourite time of the day to explore the gallery. Most Parisians were at work and most tourists were having lunch, so the place was relatively deserted. He walked slowly around the art, careful to keep his mask hidden from view.

He stopped when he heard two women talking nearby and pressed himself into a corner as he listened. For a moment, he was convinced that he recognised one of the speakers, but did not think that was possible. Christine could not speak French. He could still remember the way she had struggled with the basics of Italian. There was no way she would be here in Paris, touring the Louvre, speaking fluent French.

"Where is your man?" the voice he did not recognise asked.

"I think he saw _Mona Lisa,_" the woman who sounded like Christine said with a smile obvious in her voice.

"How can you bear to let Antonio out of your sight, Christine? He is so beautiful that I would put him on a leash." She paused. "I'm so pleased that he and Adrien are getting along so well."

Perhaps it wasn't Christine. Perhaps he wanted it to be her so badly that he imagined her voice speaking French like a natural. She had never been any good speaking anything but English. He paused, frozen with fear when she mentioned another man. Perhaps she had learnt French for this Antonio. Or worse still, perhaps Antonio had taught her in bed just as he had attempted all those years ago.

A bright laugh echoed through the room. Even if he hadn't just heard her name, Erik would have recognised that laugh anywhere. How many times had he heard her tinkling laugh while he spoke to her or kissed her waist?

"I have tried doing that! Believe me, Phoebe; I've tried! Ant refuses to be tied down. I have learnt just to let him to have his own way; he'll come back to me when he needs me."

The two women laughed.

"I should have known you would be here in front of _Mona Lisa_," Christine said to the mysterious Antonio with a laugh. "Isn't she beautiful? If you look…"

Erik could not hear what Christine whispered to the other man. Nor could he hear his response. He would have liked nothing better to hear and see the man who now had Christine's undivided attention. He did not think it was possible that she would look at someone with the adoration she used to bestow on him and yet he could easily imagine the look she would be giving Antonio.

For all of her professions of love all those years ago, she got over him quickly. He had remained faithful to her for five years even though they were technically no longer together. He knew he would never find another woman he could love as he loved Christine. He folded his arms across his chest and stormed out of the museum.

* * *

Erik thundered away at the piano, scribbling notes on a blank sheet of music. He paused in his playing to write down a few lyrics. Turning his attention back to the keys, Erik tried to focus on the final scene. Thoughts of Christine kept invading his mind.

He now knew for certain that she was here in Paris. For whatever reason, Christine was in Paris and she was here – in _his _city – with another man!

* * *

While Antonio was at preschool, Christine spent the time busily trying to finish her novel. She would spend the time he was away furiously typing. The only time she was not working on her novel was after she picked up Antonio from school, until she put him to bed. Once Antonio was asleep, she would try to stay up late typing and editing, but often ended up falling asleep in front of her computer.

Once a week, she would go out for coffee with Phoebe and took great delight in having a friend who had an idea of what life was like trying to raise an almost four-year-old. Christine had seen the look of curiosity in Phoebe's eyes, but was pleased her friend restrained herself enough not to ask what happened to Antonio's father. She did not want explain the circumstances of Antonio's birth to Phoebe who was very happily married. Christine never wanted to be judged again.

She had Antonio and that was all that mattered.

* * *

Erik wandered the banks of the Seine as the sun went down; the light was low enough that no one would see his mask. He stopped near the Eiffel Tower and watched as a group of tourists climbed off a boat.

He looked at the tourists from under his brows but suddenly looked up. His eyes sought out and stopped on a petite brunette carrying a drowsy child. He felt his hands begin to shake when he realised that the child Christine was nursing was very clearly her own. His heart shattered when he realised that she had borne another man's child. For a few weeks in Venice, he had hoped that she would have his children. He had clearly lost that right and illusion.

His agony quickly turned to fury when he realised that she had been with other men. It just proved his belief that she was nothing but a tramp. Antonio must be the boy's father.

Before he could question his behaviour, Erik stepped forward and into Christine's path. He fixed her with a dark glare, his blue eyes narrowed as he assessed her and the child.

"Christine."

She tilted her head back to gaze into Erik's eyes. If he had expected her to smile brilliantly at him as she used to, he was sadly disappointed. Instead she stepped back from him and pressed a hand to the back of the boy's head, shielding him from the conversation. Erik immediately noticed with a tiny amount of hope that she wasn't wearing a ring on her left hand. He immediately chastised himself; he did not want her.

"Erik." She stared at him, unable to think of anything to say. She had imagined this moment for the past five years, and yet now that she was there, she realised that all her fantasies were nothing at all like reality.

In her dreams she imagined seeing him from the distance and the smile that would light their faces when they made their initial eye contact. He would then stalk towards her, his love for her in his eyes, pull her roughly into his arms and kiss her until she nearly fainted. He would then look at his son, instantly seeing himself in the boy and accept him. They would then pick up where they left off five years ago and become a family.

Christine and Erik looked at each other, dark green eyes meeting dark blue ones. For an entire minute, neither spoke. The little boy in Christine's arms raised his head from Christine's shoulder and looked around, aware of the tension between the two adults.

"You're the man in the photos!" Antonio gasped in amazement as he finally placed where he knew Erik. "You're Mummy's boyfriend!"

Erik and Christine looked at Antonio in surprise. Christine wished that the ground beneath her would just open up and swallow her. She could not believe that Antonio had recognised Erik and had actually commented on it…in front of him. Clearly embarrassed, Antonio ducked his head into Christine's neck.

"Are you on holiday?" Erik asked finally after a long and uncomfortable pause, slipping into French without thinking.

With a wince, Christine shook her head. She wanted to say that she was on holiday so that Erik wouldn't think to keep looking for her, but she could not bring herself to lie to him. "We moved here from London last month," she responded in French.

"We have a _big_ house," Antonio said in a very impressive French accent. "You can see the Opera from my room."

"It's an apartment on l'avenue d'Opera," Christine explained, embarrassed by Antonio's comment. "And it really isn't _that _big."

Erik looked at the child, amazed that he was so fluent in French. The boy's father was probably fluent in Italian, French, English and German and ensured that his son was also fluent! He looked at the child, relieved that he looked so like Christine and not the father. He could not bear to look at Christine's child and see another man in the little face. He gave the boy a look down his nose before turning his attention back to Christine.

"I have to get home, Erik. We have to get you ready for bed," she said to her son switching from French to English.

Erik stepped forward, his hand out to stop her from leaving. His hand fell away when Christine looked at him with wild eyes and stepped away from him. "Don't touch me, Erik. _Please._"

Nodding in defeat, Erik stepped back to allow her to pass. She gave Erik a quick, shaky smile and then rushed away from him.

* * *

"Mummy, is that man going to a party?" Antonio asked as Christine tucked him into bed a bit over an hour later.

"No, bubby," she replied, her throat thickening with tears. "He always wears a mask. Now, shall I tell you the story of the ghost and the princess who met at a party?"

Nodding wildly against his pillow, Antonio shuffled over to allow Christine to lie down beside him on his bed. She usually tried not to base her bedtime stories for Antonio on her time with Erik, but just seeing him made her want to relive that happier time again.

When she had finished the story, Christine left his room and began to work on her novel. It had been almost a week since she'd had the opportunity to work on her story and her encounter with Erik had given her a few ideas.

Christine wiped at her eyes as she worked on her novel. The clock ticked softly in the background, passing midnight and then one o'clock. Finally, when her eyes were too sore to continue staring at the computer, Christine headed to bed.

In her large bed – and the darkened room – Christine's mind began to wander. She had always imagined seeing Erik would bring back all the feelings she experienced while they were in Venice. However, seeing him last night made her feel terrible. She had hoped that everything would be wonderful but seeing Erik was too difficult. Instead of bringing back the feelings of love and passion that she thought it would, she was consumed with feeling of confusion, anger and resentment.

All of the feelings that she thought she had dealt with and then buried years ago came back to haunt her. Somehow, by simply speaking briefly to Erik, the man had managed to lift the box on all of the feelings she had so carefully boxed away out of reach. Things were too complicated. After their violent parting and her current confusion, she was not sure she wanted Erik in her life.

She had seen the looks she had given her – his! – son last night. She certainly did not want him in her life if he was going to continuing looking at Antonio as if he were an unpleasant bug. She would not believe that a bad father was better than no father.

Erik could never know that he was Antonio's father.

* * *

Back at his house later that night, Erik stared blindly at the photo that had been taken years before. He had not been able to get Christine from his mind, and he knew, now that he had seen her again, he would never be able to forget her.

He missed her. Every day he thought about her and hoped that she would call him. But every day he went to bed at night without hearing her lilting voice. Slowly he gave up hope of ever seeing her again.

That was until two hours ago.

She had moved to Paris. Christine was still as beautiful as she had been when they met in Venice, but she was not the same. He was convinced she had put on a little weight; not surprising since she had had a child. Her face had lost the softness it had when she was only twenty-two. Of course the most noticeable change was the boy perched on her hip. Erik might have been able to pretend nothing had changed if it were not for that child.

They would not be able to go back to how they were before Christine left his hotel room without a word. But perhaps they could try. If he wanted to be with her – he suspected that perhaps he did – he would have to try and accept the child.

Did he love her enough to accept another man's child?


	6. Chapter 6

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 6**

Christine could not believe she was doing this. She promised herself that she would never allow Erik near her son and yet that was precisely what she was doing. She had even promised herself that she would not see Erik. She had considered sending Antonio to Phoebe's, so that Erik would not be able to see her son again, but decided against it. It was dusk and the playground at Tuileries Garden was relatively deserted for Erik.

Christine and Antonio wandered into the park and she immediately shooed her son away to playground. If she could not keep Erik away from her son, she would keep her son away from him!

She had just settled down in a bench to watch Antonio when Erik carefully settled himself alongside her. He looked briefly at Christine, not wanting to notice just how beautiful she looked when she was worried. Last night he had noticed a few differences in her appearance. Now that he had time to study her, he noticed the subtle changes.

Her eyes which, he remembered being bright and clear were now dark. Instead of wearing contacts lenses, she now wore glasses. He remembered the way she used to leave her curly hair down, loose around her shoulders or piled into a loose style. Now it was pulled back into a tight ponytail.

"I thought you said the boy was going to be at a friend's place."

Christine tried not to take offence at Erik's comment. She had to remind herself that he didn't know Antonio was his child. She hoped that if he knew he was Antonio's father he would not be speaking of his child like that.

Christine didn't want to explain to Erik that she could not bear the thought of her son being away from her when she had to meet Erik, and so she had decided against sending him to play with Adrien. "Why have you asked me here, Erik?"

"I missed you," he said softly, unexpectedly, unable to hold back the truth. Christine looked away from Erik's dark blue eyes. "I haven't heard from you since you left Venice all those years ago."

"Nearly five years," Christine answered without thinking.

"I hoped that you would call me. But I see you have moved on." He looked pointedly at Antonio who was playing on the playground.

"I have had to, Erik," she whispered, blinking the tears quickly from her eyes as Antonio came rushing towards her. She gave her son a bright smile, determined to keep her true feelings hidden from him.

"Mummy! I'm thirsty!"

Christine gave her son a frown. "Is that how you ask for a drink, Antonio?"

"Please, Mum?"

With a smile, Christine handed him a little drink bottle of juice from the bag she had packed. She then watched nervously as Antonio looked carefully at Erik, assessing the older man with curious green eyes. He reached out to touch Erik's hand, failing to notice the way Erik pulled his hand out of Antonio's reach.

"Go on, Ant; go and play."

"I'm not Ant!" he reminded her with a frown. "I'm Antonio or bubby!"

"Off you go then, bubby!" She shooed him away with a playful smile.

Christine and Erik watched their son run back to the play equipment.

"Your _son _is named Antonio?"

"Yes. I named him after his father," she said slowly, carefully dropping a piece of crucial information. She received nothing from Erik but a vague blink of his eyes. "Who did you think Antonio was?"

Erik just shook his head, refusing to respond. To confess that he thought Antonio was her lover would be to admit that he had been jealous of a little boy. Until he knew how she felt, he was not going to say anything that could reveal his true feelings for her.

"He speaks French very well. In fact, you and the boy both speak it far better than I ever thought possible."

"Antonio and I had French lessons," she explained patiently. "I thought his father would like him to be bilingual."

Erik wanted to ask if his father was French but decided that he was better off not knowing. Perhaps she had met a man in Paris before she had journeyed on to Venice. That thought caused his heart to constrict as he held back a moan of anguish.

"I'm sorry how we ended in Venice, Christine," he said finally, changing the subject.

"So am I. Venice was…" Words failed her as she sighed in delight, remembering the time she spent with him.

"You can't be that sorry. You obviously didn't waste much time in finding yourself another man to keep you company."

Christine looked at Erik in shock, trying to decide if he had just insulted her or was fishing for information. "What do you mean by that?"

"Your son is what? Three or four years old?"

"He's almost four. What does that have to do with anything?"

Erik shrugged.

Christine was about to respond with several choice words when Antonio returned for a sip of juice. He was about to go running back with the bottle when Christine stopped with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Leave your juice here, bubby." Antonio did so, staying with them for another minute while he continued to drink. Neither spoke as they waited for the child to leave before continuing their conversation. Aware of Erik bristling at her side, Christine finally said, "Why don't you go and show me how you high you can jump on the trampoline?"

Without a backward glance Antonio ran away from the bench.

"You have no right to judge me and what I may or may not have done since we met. Any men I have or haven't been with are none of your business. You gave up those rights when you lost all control and started destroying the bathroom and screaming at me!"

Erik looked at her, finally understanding why she left him. He had terrified her. "_Christine_."

"No, Erik. I needed a change of scenery and so came here to start a new life with Antonio. I didn't come here to Paris because of you. In fact, I had hoped that you would not know I was here. I just want to write and live quietly with my son. Please don't make this hard for me – for us."

She wiped the tears from her eyes, hating that she was crying in front of the man who thought so little of her. Although he remembered everything that had happened between them in Venice, the years had clearly changed his opinion of her.

"Antonio! Come on, bubby. It's time to go home." She picked Antonio up and gave him a tight hug. She looked at Erik, looking far older than her twenty-seven years. "Please just leave me, Erik."

* * *

With all of the chaos surrounding her, Christine immersed herself in her writing. Not that it was really surprising considering all the inspiration she had since Erik had re-entered her life. While Antonio was at preschool, Christine would type furiously at home, coffee shops or in the park.

She was close to finishing her novel, which was almost a year overdue. She hoped that she would be able to have it to the publishers before the end of the year. If Erik continued to pop up unexpectedly in her life, she was sure to have enough material.

* * *

Erik spent a great deal of time lurking along _l'avenue d'Opera_. He had no idea precisely where Christine lived with her son, but he hoped that one day he would luck out and find her leaving her apartment.

That was precisely what happened one day. Christine walked down the road, hand in hand with Antonio, headed for the department store. Erik considered waiting for several hours for them to return, hoping to catch her on her way in and elicit an offer to come up to her apartment, but decided against it.

He caught up with Christine and Antonio at a café only a block from the apartment. Arrogantly, Erik slid into one of the spare chairs at the table and looked coldly at Christine. He was so furious with her that he was not sure he would be able to remain calm. For the past several days, he had been brooding angrily, eager to see her again and tell her precisely what he thought of her.

"What are you doing here?" Christine demanded, reluctant to repeat her previous meeting with Erik in front of Antonio. She struggled to decide what to do with her son while she spoke with Erik. Eventually, she decided to send him over to the cabinet that held the cakes and told him to pick some to take home for dessert.

"I want to know if what we shared meant so little to you?"

Christine looked at him; she saw his insecurity but ignored it. She could not deal with Erik's concerns while her son was so close. "Not now, Erik!"

"Yes, now!" he snapped.

"Why?" Christine asked, confused. "Why do you want to know?"

"It was bad enough that you left me, Christine," Erik muttered. "But I don't want to be a fool, thinking that what happened between us meant anything to you. Which, I suspect to be the case since you clearly have had another man's child."

Tears stung Christine's eyes as she hung her head. She could neither confirm nor deny Erik's accusation. She wanted to tell him that he had it all wrong, but could not bring herself to say it. Judging by his bad mood, he probably would not believe her!

Taking her silence to be an admission of guilt, Erik clenched his jaw and glared at her.

"I'll never be able to forget what happened in Venice," Christine said quietly. It was as close to the truth as she would ever be able to get.

"What happened to his father? Did you leave him like you left me? I've never seen him with you or Antonio, so I can only assume that you left him."

"Why are you doing this to yourself, Erik?" she whispered mournfully, as she unthinkingly reached across the table to hold his hand. "What difference will it make to know what happened?"

"I want to know."

"Yes, I left him. He was horrible to me and so I decided, that for Antonio's sake, it would best that he had nothing to do with my son. Antonio is a Daaé; he has my name and has nothing to do with his father. He doesn't see him."

"Did your time with him mean as much to you as the time with me? Or more?"

Pushed to the limit, Christine climbed to her feet, grabbed her bag and glared at him. It was safer to hide behind her anger than to confess the truth. "That is none of your business! As I said the other day, you lost the right to ask questions about my life when you lost your temper and terrified me! I don't know why you came here to torture yourself, Erik."

Ignoring his shocked expression, Christine stalked over to Antonio, grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the café.

* * *

Erik thought he would have tortured himself enough after that confrontation with Christine in the coffee shop. But instead, he continued his obsessive behaviour, waiting for a chance to see her. He had to know what had happened to the woman he had loved in Venice.

Much to Erik's surprise, he saw her a few days later on her way to the opera house. Even more surprising was the way the boy all but dragged her along the street, eager to reach the magnificent building. He followed them around the opera house, silently keeping to the shadows, listening carefully to the conversation between mother and child.

"Oh, look at chandelier, Antonio," Christine said in delight, pointing up at the light from Box Five. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Nodding in awe, Antonio jumped from Christine's lap and stood on his toes at the edge of the box to get a closer look. "Look, Mummy! There are more lyres!" He bounced on his toes.

"They're everywhere aren't they? How many have we counted now?"

"Hundreds! It hurts if the chand-a-lier falls, right, Mummy?"

Christine laughed and then pulled him back onto her lap and dropped her voice. "I'm sure it would! It would weigh a lot with all that gold and crystal. But did you know that it already has fallen? Years and years ago it fell during a performance and hurt lots of people."

"Did anybody die?"

"One lady died," Christine admitted, unsurprised by her son's interest in the gory details of the tragic event. "She was a little girl's mummy."

Antonio's face fell. "Did she cry?"

"I'm sure she did." She gave him a kiss before continuing. "But, did you know that the builders built the opera house right on top of a lake?" Antonio looked at his mother with wide, excited eyes. "A long time ago, a man wrote a story about a man who lived along the lake. He used to sit in _this _box and watch the lady he loved sing on the stage. What would you do if you had the whole opera house as your home?"

Christine had spent a great deal of time considering how she would raise Erik's child. She tried to imagine how he would raise his son and had done so according to her imaginings. She was sure Erik would have wanted his son brought up aware of music and art. She wanted to do her best to encourage her son's active imagination.

"I sing and dance on the stage! Then I find the man who lives at the lake. I live with him!"

"What would you and The Phantom do on the lake, bubby?"

"We have parties. He can show me the good places to hide! And then we go for a swim with the monsters."

"Oh!" Christine interrupted Antonio's story with wide eyes. "There are monsters in the lake?"

Antonio nodded, his little face serious. "They're nice monsters," he assured her when he saw Christine's shocked expression.

"Oh, I'm very glad to hear that. I wouldn't like you or The Phantom swimming with a mean monster." Christine lifted Antonio from her lap and led him out of the opera box. "Do you think the monsters will be able to sing?"

Antonio nodded. "Everyone sings, Mummy; it's the opera. The monsters are baritones. I'm a tenor! We'll sing arias together."

Erik listened to Antonio's comment with surprise. He had heard the boy switch easily between French and English. He had not expected him to have such an active imagination or such a vast knowledge of musical terms. His mother was a journalist, Erik reminded himself. It was to be expected that he would be able to make up stories.

Christine and Antonio headed for the exit, unaware that they had left a very confused Erik behind.

* * *

Erik wandered out of the Opera House, feeling lost. He had listened to Christine and Antonio talking as they toured the building, and was amazed at the child's intelligence and creativity.

In Venice he recalled talking to Christine about having a child with her. He could imagine his and Christine's child being a wonderful combination of them both. Bilingual, musical and imaginative. Antonio's father was clearly an intelligent and lucky man.

Back at his house, Erik took off his mask and replaced it with his glasses. He tried to focus on the text in front of him, to distract himself from the images of Christine and the dark-haired boy walking through the Opera House together. He had listened to their conversation with a combination of amazement and fury.

He wished that Antonio were his son. If he were, he would have made sure that he knew a great deal of music. He would not be absent like the boy's father.


	7. Chapter 7

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 7**

"Antonio!" Christine called from the kitchen as she began covering his toast in jam. She saw his little dark head sitting in front of the TV watching morning cartoons and frowned. "Your breakfast is almost ready. Can you show me how clever you are and get dressed?"

The little boy's head spun around and he grinned cheekily at his mother. He took the plate she offered him and eagerly bit into his toast.

"You're already dressed!" Christine looked at the clothes he had dressed himself in and smiled. He was still wearing his pyjama shirt. Oh well, she thought with a shrug as she kissed the top of his head. It did not look like a pyjama shirt and it went well enough with the shorts he was wearing. He could stay in it. "Eat your toast while I get dressed."

As she quickly changed out of her pyjamas into a pair of jeans and a coat, Christine had to laugh. Antonio did not take after her when it came to their morning routine. Even as a child, her mother had always been forced to hurry her to get ready for school. She was so slow in the morning and would always make it to school just in time.

In a scene similar to one from her childhood, Christine returned from her bedroom to find Antonio still sitting in front of the TV and his shoes on – but on the wrong feet. Kneeling in front of him, Christine quickly fixed his shoes and carried him into the bathroom.

"You even brushed your teeth while I was getting dressed!" Christine cried in delight as she wiped the dried toothpaste from around his mouth. Suspecting he only ate the toothpaste, Christine pulled out his brush and proceeded to brush his teeth for him.

"I need to brush my teeth now," Christine said as she helped Antonio down from the bench. "Go and get your preschool bag."

Halfway to his bag, Antonio stopped and stared at the TV, his instructions forgotten. Rushing out of the bathroom, Christine turned off the TV and tapped Antonio on the shoulder as she grabbed her keys and bag.

"Quickly, bubby, downstairs. We're late for preschool!"

* * *

Christine hit save on her laptop, stabbed the spoon into the tub of ice cream and went to answer the door. She didn't think it would be Phoebe; she usually rang before she came over. Pulling open the door, Christine just resisted the urge to close the door in Erik's face.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, too shocked to speak in French.

"I had to see you." How could he explain his need to see her when he did not understand it himself?

After following her and Antonio around for a few days, Erik was consumed by an urge to speak to Christine. He had seen them together at the Opera House and then outside Antonio's school earlier in the day. Christine looked like an attentive and loving mother – and he instinctively knew that she adored her son. But he had no idea how she felt about the boy's father. Perhaps if he knew who the mysterious man was he could understand his strange connection to Antonio…and the bond between himself and Christine that could never be ignored.

"Why?" she asked dumbly, still standing in the doorway.

Erik looked around him, refusing to have this conversation in the hallway. "Can I come in?" he asked gently, determined to behave better this time than he did the time before.

Grudgingly, Christine stepped back and allowed Erik into the apartment. She showed him a seat and was about to sit down when she saw Antonio appear in the doorway of his room. Racing down the hall, she stepped in front of him, blocking Erik from his view. She didn't want to be forced to explain to Antonio what the masked man was doing in his house.

"Mummy?"

"Antonio, what are you doing up? You, my bubby, are supposed to be asleep."

"The banging waked me," he said with a pout as he held his hands up to Christine so that she would carry him back to his bed.

"It's stopped now. Now, listen, Antonio; you need to stay in your bed," Christine instructed as she tucked the blanket around his chin and kissed him. "You need to go to sleep."

Christine returned from Antonio's bedroom to find Erik studying her bookshelf from a distance, his eyes squinting behind his mask. He was holding a photo of Antonio in his hand even as he perused the titles. He could not have missed the photos from Venice that she had placed throughout the bookcase and living room.

"Sorry, Erik. He's a light sleeper."

She remembered the time all too clearly when they had spent lazy days in Venice. Whenever she tried to slip from the bed, certain that Erik was asleep, he would wake and try to stop her. Being a light sleeper was just another aspect of his father that Antonio had inherited.

"I didn't think you'd like Imelda Jones," he commented, picking the first neutral topic that he could think of. He carefully set down the photo of Antonio, unsure why he had picked it up to begin with.

"I happen to think that she is a very passionate, entertaining and geographically accurate author," she responded hotly.

Erik simply nodded, surprised by her passionate defence of the writer. Perhaps the topic of Imelda Jones was not so neutral after all.

"You live here with just Antonio?"

"Yes. It's very big for the two of us, but I saw the property on the Internet when we were still in London and had to have it."

Erik frowned. "So you are doing well then? Your journalism pays well?" He already knew the answer to that. She had to be financially secure to live in an apartment like this.

"Antonio and I are fine, Erik." There was no way she was going to discuss her financial situation with her estranged lover! Erik lost all rights to question her when he screamed at her all those years ago.

They sat and stared silently at each other for a moment. Uncomfortable, Christine went to make Erik a cup of coffee. She still remembered how he liked it after all this time.

"When was the last time you saw the boy's father?"

"I haven't seen him since…" Christine's voice faded as she gestured wildly with her hand. "He doesn't know that Antonio exists."

"And what was his father like?"

Erik wondered why he was sabotaging the beginning of his relationship with Christine. He really didn't want to hear about her relationship with another man, what he did, what he looked like or how much he earned.

Christine thought of telling him the truth then and there. But when she saw the way that he was looking at her, as if he knew what she had done, she lost all sense. Maybe he could feel some of the pain she had felt for the past five years of her life.

"He was a gentleman who swept me off my feet when I least expected it. He taught me so much and showed me so many things. In and out of bed," she added slyly, taking pleasure in the way that Erik squirmed uncomfortably. "He has enough money that I would have been able to live comfortably with him if that were what we wanted."

Erik's eyes hardened as he looked down his nose at her. His eyes silently condemned her.

"He sounds like a saint," Erik muttered harshly. "I'm amazed that you gave up such a life of luxury with the father of your child. I can't think of another woman on the planet who would not make the man pay financially and emotionally for her child. You really are a rare woman, Christine."

Tears glistened in her eyes. Why had she said that? She knew he had a terrible temper and yet she had deliberately provoked him! She was just silently relieved that he had not thrown anything. Obviously he was able to keep a very tight rein on his temper and control himself in her home. The wounded and furious look he gave her told her that she had overstepped the bounds. She had crossed an invisible line and had broken his heart.

"I'm not mercenary, Erik."

Erik chuckled sarcastically and gave her a patronising nod. "You obviously managed to take a great deal of his father's money," he said dryly, gesturing to the quality of Christine's home.

She glared at him, her dark green eyes flashing with anger. "I bought this with my _own_ money! And in case you're also wondering, I also pay my own insurance, flights and grocery bills! I don't rely on any man for anything!

"I don't know why we're arguing about this, Erik! None of this is your business. So, if you want to talk about something other than my financial status and my son, you're welcome to. If not, you can go." She pointed to the door, her chin jutting at a mutinous angle.

"Christine. I want to apologise for my behaviour the last week," he said after a long, awkward pause. "I never meant to upset you. I was out of line."

"Yes, you were," Christine said simply. "I keep telling you that what went on between Antonio's father and myself is none of your business. Yet, you keep torturing yourself in wanting to know more. Why?"

Erik shrugged and then hung his head. "I don't know, Christine. I hate the idea of you being with another man."

Christine looked at Erik as she debated whether she should tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him that he was Antonio's father so that he would stop looking at her that way and then she would be able to put everything behind her. But she had spent the last five years keeping this secret and she was not ready to confess it. She certainly was not going to tell Erik that Antonio was his son when he clearly thought he was the result of a one-night stand.

"I hate the thought of your being in bed with another man and having his child!" Erik continued, his possessive streak coming out again.

"Not that it's any of your business, but you were the last man I was ever with!" Christine snapped as she grew tired of his accusations and particularly his jealousy. Oh, she had rather enjoyed it in Venice, and in a way, it was flattering to know that he loved and cherished her. However, at the moment, it was simply infuriating.

"And yet there is another man's green eyed, black haired brat sleeping in the next room!"

_"Antonio is not a brat!"_ Christine screamed at him as she lunged to her feet. "And don't you _dare_ talk about my son like that!"

Erik looked at Christine, taken aback by her anger. He had heard stories of mothers who would do anything to protect their children. Clearly he had underestimated Christine's maternal instincts. Even at her dainty height of just over five feet, she was intimidating.

"I think I should go," he muttered, embarrassed as he climbed carefully to his feet.

"Yes, I think you should!" She stomped over to the front door and heaved it open. The moment he was out in the hallway, she slammed it shut in his face.

* * *

Friday afternoon, Christine and Phoebe took theirs sons out for afternoon tea and a play after preschool. The two women sat side by side on a bench as they watched the boys chasing each other around the playground.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Christine, how you're settling in. Have you made any more friends? Are you finding everything okay?"

Christine looked at Phoebe and smiled. "Everything is wonderful," she lied. "I ran into an old friend I haven't seen in years, so we've been spending a bit of time together. As for finding everything, I spent a bit of time here when I was twenty-two and still remember where most things are."

Phoebe smiled. "I'm glad, Christine. I remember when Gabriel and I moved to Germany for a year; I had the hardest time settling in. I knew very little German and had no friends. It was the worst year of my life!"

Christine gave the other woman a warm smile. "At least I have you, Phoebe. It's been so long since I've had a friend."

* * *

Christine's following week was carefree; she had not heard from Erik since she had kicked him out of her house. She was not sure how long his absence would last, but she was determined to enjoy it while it did. She always had a feeling that he was never far away; that he was always keeping an eye on her, but Christine did her best to ignore it.

While she was packing her groceries into her car, Christine stopped when she heard someone calling her name. She spun around and smiled when she saw a dark haired man smiling at her.

"Gabriel! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he responded with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be on the way to collect your son?"

Christine smiled and tapped him playfully on the arm before glancing down at her watch. "I'm just leaving now. Are you picking up Adrien, or is Phoebe?"

"Phoebe is. I'm just here to pick up a few things for dinner tonight. I want to surprise Phoebes with a special dinner."

She squeezed his hand, pleased that her friend had such a wonderful husband. "Well, then it seems as if we both have busy afternoons. You have shopping and I have a little boy to collect."

Gabriel smiled. "Please don't say anything to Phoebe. I'd like her to think it was my idea."

Christine laughed and pressed a finger to her lips. "I won't breathe a word."

With a final smile, Gabriel squeezed Christine's shoulder in silent thanks and headed into the supermarket.

* * *

An incessant pounding on her front door interrupted Christine as she tried to put Antonio to bed. Suspecting it would be Erik, she reluctantly left her son, his story unfinished, closed the door and went to see whom her visitor was.

"I've just put Antonio to bed, so you need to be quiet," she said as she hesitantly gestured Erik inside with little more than a nod of greeting. Exhausted, she had hoped to go bed straight after she had put Antonio to sleep. With Erik standing in the middle of her apartment, that was unlikely.

Erik nodded and sat down on the lounge. "Who was that man you were with this afternoon?" he asked, wasting no time in getting to the point.

Christine looked up at him sharply. "What man are you talking about?"

"That dark haired man you met at the supermarket. You both seemed rather intimate."

"Gabriel?" she asked in confusion.

Erik frowned. He did not want to know that man's name. He already hated him for the attention Christine had lavished on him during their short conversation. He wanted Christine all to himself.

"He's Antonio's father, isn't he?"

Christine's green eyes narrowing in barely suppressed fury. "I have never slept with Gabriel; he's my best friend's husband! I have not slept with another man since I left you in Venice, Erik! I've told you that!"

"Oh, so you're saying Antonio is my son?" Erik asked scornfully.

"Maybe if you weren't being so stupidly possessive and…_male_ you would hear what I'm saying! _Antonio is your son_," she snapped, rising to her feet and beginning to pace.

"My son!"

"It's true, Erik. Antonio is your son!"

"My son?" What was supposed to be a sarcastic comment, turned out as a weak, hopeful question.

"He is ours," Christine repeated, the fight momentarily leaving her. Erik stood, planning to look in on the child Christine claimed was his. "You are not going near him, Erik." She stood in the doorway of Antonio's bedroom, her arms spread wide, preventing his entry.

Erik thought back to the passionate time they spent in his hotel room in Venice. They were so caught up in each other and the excitement of their new relationship that they didn't even think of the possibility of pregnancy. Was it possible that Antonio was his son?

Erik glared at her. "If that boy is mine as you say he is, I have every right to see him. I want to see if he looks like me or the man you claim you were never with."

"I don't want you anywhere near my son. Erik, you are not to have anything to do with Antonio until you decide if you want to be part of our family. You have to make a commitment to both of us. You can't accept that you're Antonio's father, and then have nothing to do with him. I could not bear to watch him become attached to you and then have you leave him because you decided you didn't want to be a father."

"And you think that because I haven't had anything to do with the boy that I am incapable of being a father? You kept the news of my son from me for four years, Christine. I would have been there if you had given me the opportunity. But you took that away from me," he finished in a strained voice, tight with tears.

She sighed sadly and closed the door to Antonio's room. Pushing her hair from her face with shaking hands, she sat down on the couch. "I didn't think you would care." She looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears not to fall. "If I didn't have to worry about Ant I would suggest that we try to put the past behind us and begin again. But I do, Erik. Antonio is the most important person in my life and I will do anything to protect him and make sure he's happy. I don't want you waltzing in here, claiming to be his father only to leave him when you tire of him. It doesn't work like that Erik!"

Unable to hold back the past five years of despair, tears slipped from Christine's green eyes. For five years she had kept the burden of her secret to herself. She ducked her head away from Erik, not wanting him to see her cry as she wiped at the tears and pleated the hem of her shirt.

"Why didn't you tell me about him?" Erik asked in a hurt whisper, certain the pain was going to rip him apart. He looked at Christine, his heart aching with fury, pain and agony. "You don't just give birth to a child and forget to tell the father!"

"You made it very clear how you felt about me in Venice. How could I tell you I was pregnant when you were so angry? It was so very clear that you hated me," she responded with mounting indignation, doing her best to ignore the guilt that was consuming her.

Erik could think of nothing to say to that accusation. He had been so angry with her that he thought he would have been happy to never see her again.

"You said that you named the baby after his father," Erik hedged when they had been silent for too long. "Are you sure you named him after me and not some other man?"

"And didn't you tell me your middle name is Antoine? I named him after you; I chose Antonio because he was conceived in Italy." She held out her hand to him, silently begging him to understand. "Erik, I am not the kind of woman you think I am! You were the last man I was ever with."

"You didn't plan to tell me, did you?"

"No," Christine confessed softly.

She began to cry again and was surprised when Erik went to embrace her. He pulled her into his arms and bent down to give her a tender, healing kiss. Five years of longing caused the kiss to deepen. Surprised by the passion threatening to overwhelm her, Christine gave him a violent shove and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She looked wildly around the room – anywhere but at Erik – and was instantly reminded that her son could walk in on them at any moment.

"We cannot be doing this now, Erik. _I_ cannot deal with this now."

"Christine-"

She shook her head. "_Go_. Just go, Erik."

Christine pushed Erik's back, shoving him towards the door. Once she was alone with her son in the apartment, Christine sagged against the door with a deep sigh and began to sob.


	8. Chapter 8

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 8**

Erik's fingers glided over the keys of his piano. The song he planned to compose today was a beautiful ballad. That was until he had spontaneously decided to visit Christine. The song he was now composing was a disturbing, melancholic piece.

He hoped that he would be able to pick up where he and Christine had left off five years ago. But now that Christine had a child – who she claimed to be his – nothing could be the way it was before.

Blocking out his pain, Erik began to compose wildly. He would focus his attention on his music and not Christine.

* * *

In the wee hours of the morning, Christine edited her manuscript madly. She made the mistake of informing her publishers that she hoped to have the book into them before the end of the year. In response to that, they had decided to bring the date forward. She now only had nine weeks to get the novel to her editor and then the publishers.

Muttering to herself as she worked on re-writing a sentence, Christine looked up; her fingers paused over the keys when she heard her name.

"Can I hop in with you?"

Christine smiled sleepily at her son as she threw the blankets back for him. Antonio climbed into bed and snuggled into Christine's side.

"Close your eyes and go back to sleep, bubby," Christine said softly as she brushed Antonio's hair from his face.

"The light's bright," he complained with a sleepy pout.

"I know, but I need to keep writing."

"You're always writing."

Christine looked at her son in surprise, unaware that she was spending so much time on her book. She dropped a kiss on his cheek. "Let me finish this section and then I'll turn the light out. Okay?"

Antonio nodded sleepily, pulling a cushion over his head to block out the light.

Twenty minutes later, Christine shut her computer and wrapped her arms around Antonio.

"You're done now, Mummy?" He pulled the cushion from his head and hugged it to his stomach.

Pressing a kiss to the back of his head, Christine smiled. "I'm done now. It's time to sleep."

* * *

Unable to concentrate on the song he had been trying to compose, Erik bravely headed to one of Paris' numerous department stores to pick up a few supplies. Perhaps he needed to get out of his apartment. Without conscious thought, he headed towards the toys and children's clothes. As he wandered through the shelves of products, he found himself picking up anything that caught his attention and wondering if Antonio would like it.

Realising that Antonio would be too old for the pull-along rabbit, Erik put it quickly back on the shelf and continued on his search. Finding nothing he thought his son would like, Erik stormed out of the shop and back to his home.

He knew nothing about the boy. How could he accept the child that Christine said was his – even if he wanted to – when he did not know him? He could not even buy him a present to show that he cared.

* * *

Christine had been so distracted by her novel and Erik that she had forgotten about the housework. Generally she did not overly mind the menial tasks of running a house, but as she looked around at the mess – the piles of ironing, the overflowing clothesbasket, Antonio's toys and piles of dishes – she was not looking forward to the task. She felt like a bad mother for forcing Antonio to live in her unusually messy house. Once Antonio was in bed and his door closed to keep out the noise, Christine set to work on tidying her house.

The washing machine and dishwasher going, Christine began to work through the mass of ironing. Even after ironing Antonio's clothes for years, she never failed to be amazed at the size of his little shirts. They were much smaller than her own – and considerably smaller than Erik's. She smiled when she picked up his pyjama bottoms and stopped in surprise. She had not realised when Antonio had picked them, but the pyjamas were just like a pair Erik had worn in Venice. Another smile lit her face when she imagined Erik and Antonio wearing the same pyjamas.

It was just as well she came to her senses and began to tidy her house. Erik was coming over tomorrow night.

He had left her apartment a few days ago – after she had told him that he was Antonio's father – clearly confused. In that short visit, he knew that he had a son and that Christine still desired him. He needed his space to figure out what to do with that new information and so Christine had waited for him to contact her. She did not want to beg him to be a father when he wanted nothing to do with Antonio. Erik was not the only one with a lot to think about.

Secretly, she imagined Erik moving in with her and Antonio. She and Erik would cook dinner together, keeping an eye on what the other was cooking before sitting down to dinner as a family with Antonio. Then, while one was putting Antonio to bed, the other would clean up the kitchen. They would be a perfect family.

But that was a fantasy.

Christine had to decide what was the right thing for Antonio. That was why, when Erik called her, she had agreed to let him come over. But, she warned him harshly, he was not to come over until eight – when Antonio was supposed to asleep.

* * *

Christine looked at Erik as he sat on the couch, looking at a photo of Antonio and felt an almost uncontrollable urge to touch him. She was still having trouble understanding how, after five years of separation, and after his reaction to Antonio, she could still feel the desire for him.

Erik looked up to find her staring at him. Uncomfortable, he looked quickly away.

"He looks a great deal like you, Christine," he said, indicating the photo. He did not have to say that he could see none of himself in the boy.

She looked over his shoulder at the photo. "He looks like me but he takes after you."

He nodded unconvinced. He wanted to believe that he had a son, a family of his own, but he would wait until he had some evidence of his own before he believed her. And Erik said so.

Christine looked up sharply from the photo. "_One day_ I will show you Antonio's videos. You'll see then that he is a _lot _like you."

Cautiously setting the photo on the table in front of him, Erik took a deep breath. "You made videos?"

"Hours of them," she admitted with a nod, unable to hold back the look of motherly pride. "I wanted to always have a souvenir of Antonio's childhood." She smiled as she remembered a video of Antonio practicing his somersaults down the hall of their London townhouse and his little face grinning proudly at her when he successfully made his way from one end to the other. "Once you see all the videos, you'll know Antonio is your son," Christine continued, snapping out of her reverie.

"And then what?" Erik asked, struggling to keep control of his anger. All evening he had heard talk of how he was Antonio's father, but Christine refused to say what she planned if he decided to accept Antonio as his son.

"What do you mean?" Christine asked nervously, wondering precisely what he was asking.

"So, I sit down, watch these videos and then what? I need to decide whether or not I believe that Antonio's my child? If you do manage to convince me that he's mine, than what? Will I get to see him? Or will I be forced out of his life like I have been for the past four years? And then what about _us_?"

Christine wrung her hands, not knowing how to answer Erik's questions. They were all valid. She really did not know what she was going to do once Erik admitted that he was a father. She wanted him Antonio's life, but at what cost? Did she want to pursue a relationship with Erik? She was not sure she would be able to have Erik in her life and hold back the love she was not sure ever died.

"We'll figure that out if we get there," she responded evasively.

Annoyed at Christine's reluctance to make a decision, Erik surged to his feet, said goodbye and quickly left Christine sitting alone and confused on the lounge.

* * *

At Christine's suggestion, Erik and Christine had dinner at a restaurant only a few blocks from Christine's apartment. They were not getting anywhere sitting in her house, talking and looking at pictures. Perhaps things would be different in neutral territory. Christine hoped that if she could not convince Erik to accept Antonio as his son, perhaps she would be able to convince him to pursue a relationship with her and accept Antonio…even if he believed him to be another man's child.

Erik squinted at the menu in front of him, unable to clearly make out the words. He gestured to the waiter.

"Are you ready to order, sir?"

Erik looked at Christine who shrugged. "What do you recommend?" The waiter smiled and suggested the most expensive dishes on the menu. Erik nodded his approval at the dishes and ordered for both himself and Christine.

Christine gave him a timid smile. He had always asked the waiter's preference in Venice. "It's just like Venice."

"Except that we now – apparently – have a child."

Christine frowned. "He _is_ your son, Erik." She pulled her purse out of her bag to show Erik more of Antonio's photos. Maybe he would find something of himself in these photos.

"He is my baby?" Erik whispered as he looked at one of the photos of a newborn Antonio, squinting slightly.

Christine nodded, still not liking the doubtful tone in Erik's voice. She chewed on her lip when she took her purse back and gazed at the photo of Antonio. What did she have to do to convince him?

Surreptitiously, she glanced at her watch, wondering how much longer she and Erik would be out. All she wanted to do was go home to her baby.

"You really don't like leaving him, do you?" Erik asked, noticing her anxiety.

Christine shook her head. "We were all we had in London. I'm not used to having support from anyone."

"But you're okay leaving him with Phoebe and her husband?"

Christine shrugged, tears in her eyes. "I'm trying to be okay with it. Antonio and Adrien – Phoebe's son – are friends. It's good for Antonio to have a friend of his own."

Erik reached for her hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of it soothingly.

"Would you be all right to leave him with me?"

Christine pulled her hand away from Erik's and placed it on her lap. "Maybe in time. Probably not," she said, unable to hold back her honesty.

Erik looked at Christine in surprise, amazed that she claimed that she would not be able to trust his – her – child with him.

"Didn't you have anyone in London? What about all of your colleagues in the newspaper?"

Christine looked away, unable to look him in the eye. "I left the paper not long after I got home from Venice. I haven't spoken to any of my colleagues since."

"But you loved working at the paper," Erik observed before he could stop himself. "Why on earth would you leave?"

Christine sighed as she struggled to find the words to explain the situation to Erik. "I didn't realise I was pregnant until I got back to London. I suffered from terrible morning sickness; I took three days off in a fortnight! I had trouble hiding my pregnancy from the staff. I didn't want to have to answer questions about my pregnancy – and certainly _who_ the father was!"

Christine shrugged a shoulder as she struggled to keep back tears. The early months of her pregnancy, as she tried to decide what she should do for both herself and her baby had been terrible. She had to decide what to do without anyone to guide her. It was not until she decided to leave the paper that she was able to enjoy being pregnant.

She had spent the weeks following her return to the paper worried what her colleagues would have thought when they found out she was pregnant with a foreigner's baby. Working with a group of people who made it their business to find out what others wanted to keep hidden would have been impossible. It would not be long before they found out the truth. Judging from Tanya's comments a few months ago, the staff certainly would have imagined the most sordid stories and thought the worst of her. She certainly did not want any of them to think that she had slept with so many men as she slowly made her way across Europe that she could not remember their names and had no idea who was her son's father.

"My time abroad – with you – showed me that there is so much more to life than work. I didn't want to stay with anyone who was going to judge me because I decided to go ahead with the pregnancy. Antonio's health was far more important than my career." She gave him a ghost of a smile. "Besides, I have a new career now."

"As mother to Antonio?" Erik asked, desperate to find out more about the woman he loved years ago.

She nodded. "I still have my writing, but Antonio takes priority."

"You still write?" He was pleased that she had not given up on her career in journalism because she had a child.

"Under a _nom de plume_; I want Antonio to have his privacy. Oh, look! Here are our meals!"

Erik was about to continue questioning her but he reluctantly accepted that the conversation was over. He wanted desperately to know her name and what she had written. Maybe he had even read her books or articles! Well, he promised himself as he turned his attention to his dinner, he would find out one day.

"I remember seeing Imelda Jones's books in your house. You're one of her fans?" he asked, after a few moments of silence.

"I suppose you could say I'm a fan." Christine took a sip of her wine to hide her smile.

"Do you know the plot for of next book?" Erik asked eagerly.

"I have a few theories. I've checked on the Internet; there is nothing." She could not manage to keep her smugness from her voice. It had taken a great deal of effort, but she had somehow managed to keep the plot of her latest novel from being leaked on the Internet. The only person who knew about the plot of the next book was her editor and Christine knew that he would never betray her.

Erik frowned. "I've been waiting for the book for years. I just wish she would hurry up and publish the damn thing."

"You're not the only one, Erik. There are hundreds of people waiting for m-Imelda's book. I'm sure it will be ready very shortly."

* * *

After dinner, Erik looked at the sleeping child. It was hard to see his features in the young boy. If he had known Christine was pregnant, he would have spent nine months in a panic, worried that she would give birth to a baby that looked like him. He _almost _wished that the child had been born deformed. At least then he would know for certain that Antonio _was _his son.

He did not look up when Christine entered. She stood beside him, looking between the two as if ticking off the ways Antonio looked like his father. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw her smile and convinced himself that she had seen a similarity that he clearly couldn't see.

She glanced up again at Erik in time to see his eyes narrow and his jaw clench. As she stepped forward to brush Antonio's hair from his eyes, pushing Erik from his place at the head of the bed, Christine's anger piqued.

"You still don't believe that he is your son, do you? What do I need to do to convince you, Erik? Give you a bloody DNA test? I will not subject my son to that." In her anger, she slipped out of French and back into her native tongue. Exhausted she sank down into the rocking chair in the corner of the room. "I cannot tell you the number of times I have looked at him and seen your face in his."

Erik shook his head, disbelieving.

"Please, Erik, think of it. Although he has my eyes, he has your face shape and a dimple in his chin, just like you. He has an ability for languages, drawing and music that you know he could not have inherited from me."

Against his wishes, a slight smile tugged at Erik's lips. He had heard the boy switch easily between French and English and knew that he couldn't have inherited that from Christine. She could barely mutter a greeting in Italian. Antonio's drawing ability rivalled his own ability at the same age. Maybe it wasn't as impossible as it seemed that Antonio was his child.

As if sensing Erik's wavering certainty, Christine rose from the chair, and walked quickly across the room to stand in front of him. Holding her hands out to him pleadingly, she said, "Think of the dates and you will realise that Antonio was conceived in Venice. Erik, during those two months, I barely left your side."

Erik shook his head, trying to do a quick calculation in his head. It was possible. It was quite possible that Antonio was conceived in Venice, just as Christine said. He looked closely at the child, feeling for the first time that perhaps he was Antonio's father.

The only way he would be able to tell for sure that he was Antonio's father was if he were ever allowed to spend time with his child. As he followed Christine out of the room, Erik struggled to find the words he would need. Christine immediately headed toward the front door, as if she were eager for him to leave, but stopped when she saw that he was standing uncertainly in front of a large photo of Antonio when he was one year old.

Erik did not need to turn around to know that Christine was standing half a step behind him. With a sigh, he raised a hand to touch the photo of Antonio. "I want to believe you, Christine; I really do. I just might be beginning to believe you. But how can I accept Antonio as my son if I'm not allowed to be near him?"

Christine looked at him, confused, her head tilted to the side.

"You won't let me near him while he's awake. If he is my son, I want to get to know him."

Christine turned on him. Her green eyes flashing with fury, she jabbed him in the chest, causing him to take a nervous step backwards. "That is exactly the reason I don't want you to anywhere near Antonio! Until you stop using that word – _if_ – and accept that he's your son, I will never allow you to get to know him.

"Antonio has never had a father figure in his life. I haven't dated anyone since you, Erik. Even if I had, I would never introduce Antonio to him until I'd decided that the relationship would last and he would treat Antonio as his own son. I wouldn't have wanted Antonio to become attached to a man who could walk out of his life at any moment. That same applies to you, Erik. Just because you're his biological father does not mean I will treat you any differently."

"So, that's it, is it?" Erik asked, fighting down his own anger. "Accept that he's my son or I'm to have nothing to do with him?"

If she had not been so distressed by the situation, Christine would have tried to explain everything again. Instead she said, "I am thinking of Antonio!" Christine cried as she grabbed his shoulders. She blinked rapidly, trying to hold back her tears. "Everything I have ever done has been with his best interests at heart!"

"What about us, Christine?" Erik's voice broke with his suppressed emotion. He reached out and touched her cheek with an unsteady finger. "What if we decided to see what we started in Venice? Would you throw all that away for your son?"

When Christine took too long answering, Erik nodded, suspecting that he knew what she was reluctant to say aloud. Without another look at the photo that had held his attention for long, Erik walked out of Christine's apartment.


	9. Chapter 9

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 9**

Erik looked down at the photo of Christine and Antonio that he held tightly in his hand. He could see how dearly she loved her son. He could even see how the boy resembled his mother. But no matter how hard he tried to look, he could not see any of his own features in Antonio.

Christine was right; the boy _was _conceived in Venice. Perhaps he was Antonio's father. He knew how she felt; how angry she was that he could not accept her word that he had a son. But how could he know for sure if Christine would not allow him near Antonio? The only way he would know for certain was if he got a DNA test. But he was as reluctant as Christine to go down that path.

He could not believe that she was willing to throw away the love that they had while holidaying. She had as good as said that she would do it for her son. She loved her baby so deeply that she would risk her own happiness!

For a moment, Erik was jealous of a toddler. He wished that his mother had loved him as much as Christine clearly loved Antonio. His mother would never have sacrificed her happiness for him. Antonio was one of the luckiest boys.

For a moment, Erik wondered if he could follow Christine's lead and forget about a relationship with her because he was not sure he could not accept Antonio. Even as he thought it, he knew that was almost impossible. He still loved Christine and would not let her go. Somehow, he had to find a way to accept a child that he still could not believe was his.

Frustrated and confused, Erik put the photo in Imelda Jones's book and turned his attention to the piano.

* * *

"Shall we make some paintings for the new frames I bought yesterday?" Christine asked Antonio brightly as she pulled out paper and paints.

Antonio nodded and quickly helped his mother to arrange the paints. For almost twenty minutes, the pair drew pictures of tractors, flowers and houses.

"Do you like my painting?" Christine asked dryly as she showed Antonio her painting.

"What it is?" he asked in confusion as he tipped his head to the side.

Christine gasped in mock disappointment and looked again at her painting. "It's a picture of you and me at the Eiffel Tower."

Antonio giggled. "It's not good."

Christine laughed, knowing her son was right. "Maybe we won't put this one in a frame."

He shook his head and held up a painting. "Can my tractors go in the frame?"

"Absolutely. We can put your picture of the Opera House in a frame, too."

Antonio nodded happily and wandered off to play with his toys. Once the paint was dry, Christine put the pictures into the new frames and stood back to admire her son's work. Antonio returned to her side and looked at his framed pictures with a smile.

Assessing the rest of her photographs and prints, Christine looked at the photo of her and Erik in Venice and sighed. Despite the frustration that Erik still refused to believe that Antonio was his son, Christine could not help but love him. She loved him with all her heart and wanted desperately to be with him and to finally have a home and proper family for her son. But she found herself holding back from him. She wanted to love him as passionately as she had done in Venice, but until he accepted Antonio and trusted her, it would not be possible.

* * *

Erik looked at the completed score for the musical with a great deal of pride. He had finally done it. It was finished.

Pained to admit it, Erik did not think he would have been able to finish the score if Christine had not become a part of his life again. She had provided him with the inspiration he needed to finish the last scenes.

When he began the musical a few years ago, he thought he would feel relief to have it finally finished. But with it completed, there was no relief; just a feeling of emptiness and anti-climax.

* * *

Erik had been unable to get Christine's words out of his mind. She would give up everything for Antonio. He just had to find a way to convince her to take a risk with their relationship. Perhaps if he showed her how much he loved her, then she would be able to forget about his uncertainty in accepting that he was Antonio's father.

Now, all he had to do was convince her that they still needed to be together. Taking his courage he picked up the phone and dialled Christine's number, prepared to ask her over for dinner.

* * *

Christine stepped through the bathroom door she had left ajar in case Antonio needed her and just barely managed to stop herself from standing on Antonio who was sitting in the doorway. With a smile, Christine ruffled his hair, stepped over his legs and headed to her bedroom to get dressed.

"Are you going out?" Antonio asked as he burrowed under the blankets of Christine's bed and began throwing cushions from the bed.

Turning around to face Antonio, Christine's nervous smile turned to a look of annoyance. "How many times have I told you not to throw the pillows on the floor?" She was so nervous about going over to Erik's house for dinner tonight – and leaving Antonio with Phoebe and Gabriel – that she was having trouble coping with Antonio's behaviour.

Distracted from her task of finding something to wear, Christine stomped over to the bed and began to replace the cushions. She grabbed the corner of the blanket and pulled it back. She took another look at the clock and fretted; she was going to be late. "Hop out, please. Go and put the clothes I left on your bed in your bag."

Grudgingly, Antonio climbed out of Christine's bed, leaving Christine alone to get dressed. Quickly pulling on a skirt and cardigan, she sighed when she realised that she would not have time to do anything with her hair but put it up in a ponytail. Slapping on only basic makeup, Christine found Antonio sitting on the rug in front of the TV, playing with trucks.

"Are you ready to go to Adrien's?" Antonio looked up sharply and smiled as Christine looked around distractedly, trying to find where Antonio had left his little bag packed with a change of clothes. "Put your toys away." Figuring he had left it in his bedroom, Christine wandered to his room and found the bag at the foot of the bed and the clothes still where she had left them.

The clothes in the bag, Christine frowned at Antonio who was very slowly putting his toys back in their box. "Hurry up, Antonio!" Giving up on having her house slightly tidy, Christine lifted Antonio onto her hip and carried him downstairs.

A half hour later, Christine was sitting outside Erik's house, trying to summon the courage she needed to go up to the front door. The phone call from Erik had been so brief that she was not sure what kind of mood he would be in. He had not liked it when she had all but given him that ultimatum and had not spoken to her in days.

Knocking on the door, Christine hoped that Erik had not invited her over to say goodbye.

* * *

The first thing Christine noticed was the way Erik's face lit up when he saw her standing in the doorway. He took in her appearance, noting her simple outfit, suspecting that she had been running late and did not have a lot of time to prepare for their dinner. Despite the plainness, she looked beautiful.

Before either of them knew what was happening, Erik had pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. They stepped back from the embrace and looked uncertainly at each other, wondering precisely what had just happened. With his arm still around Christine's waist, Erik pulled her into his house and saw her seated at the dining table with a glass of wine.

"Are you still composing musicals?" Christine asked as the conversation was beginning to die down.

Erik nodded and was unable to hold back a proud grin. "I am. I've just finished composing the musical I've spent the last few years working on."

Christine smiled brightly, delighted for him. "You must be so pleased. Are you planning to see it staged?"

Erik waited until he had finished his mouthful before he responded, taking the time to prepare his response. "I have always hoped to see one of my shows performed." He shrugged a shoulder. He suspected that his musical would be good enough to performed on stage, but there was a niggling of doubt that stopped him from saying a resounding 'yes'. "I'll just have to see how it sounds when I begin playing it all the way through."

Christine nodded, knowing that what Erik said was right. When she had finished her novel and had first entertained the thought of publishing her book, she wanted it as close to perfect as she could have it before she gave it to anyone else and even considered sending it to a publisher.

"One day you will have to play some of it for me! I'm sure your score is brilliant and deserves to be on stage."

Erik nodded, liking the way that sounded. That simple comment held a world of promise. If nothing else, he would be able to hold on to Christine for a little longer.

After dinner, Erik led her into the living room and settled her down on the lounge with a cup of tea. He watched as her eyes immediately went to the large photo on the mantelpiece. Clearly their time together in Venice meant as much to Erik has it did to her. They stared up at the photo, sitting in an almost comfortable silence, remembering the time together.

"I never liked opera until that night," Christine said as she shifted slightly closer to Erik.

Erik smiled as he recalled whispering the lyrics in English in her ear. It was amazing they had managed to resist rushing back to the hotel room until dawn when he considered the number of times he had kissed her during that opera. With his lips so close to her ear, it was too easy to give her a quick kiss between translations.

"I don't think I would enjoy an opera with another person after seeing one with you in Venice," Christine continued.

He chuckled at her comment and dropped a kiss on her cheek. Erik looked down at her with guilty blue eyes. He had just kissed her. She was staring at him with wide eyes. If only she would say something. He had just kissed her!

"Erik, we shouldn't."

Frowning, Erik shifted away from Christine so he would not be tempted to kiss her again. He sighed and pressed his lips together so he would not say how annoyed he was at Christine's ultimatum.

"So you're convinced that I'll never accept that I'm Antonio's father, is that it?" he growled at her. "Because you've made up my mind for me we can have no hope of a future together."

Frustrated tears filled Christine's eyes as she pushed to her feet and began to pace across the room. She shook her hands in agitation. Too much to bear, Christine spun around and glared at Erik.

"That's not how it is!" She stopped when she realised that perhaps from Erik's point of view, it was possible that it did sound like an ultimatum. He would probably think that she was saying she would not have a relationship with him if he refused to acknowledge Antonio as his son. "You've deliberately misunderstood me! I said that unless you accept that Antonio is your son, I wouldn't introduce him to you.

"I can't pretend that we weren't once in love," she said unsteadily, her voice cracking as she returned to her place on the lounge. "As much as I may have loved you, I love Antonio more." Erik's face fell when he realised that he would never be able to compete with the little boy who Christine adored. "I want you to believe that Antonio is your son. I want to be with you."

"But we'll have nothing more than an illicit relationship unless I accept that Antonio's my son? Christine, I don't want to hide." His throat thickened as he held back tears.

"I don't want that either." Christine reached for his hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. "Come over to my apartment after Antonio's in bed and I'll show you some of his videos. Maybe you'll learn to accept him and then I can introduce you."

Smiling in relief, Erik wrapped his arms around Christine's waist and pulled her towards his end of the lounge. Christine rose to her knees, cupped his face and gave him a hard kiss, surprising both herself and Erik. A moment later, Erik was returning the kiss and pushing her back onto the lounge. When she felt Erik's hands caressing her breasts, Christine gave his shoulders a hard shove.

As if sensing her confusion, Erik lifted his body from hers and sat at the far end of the lounge. Wanting to continue, but too scared to force her into something that she clearly was not ready to do, Erik reached across the space that separated them and held her hand.

* * *

She still loved him.

Even after all they had been through she loved him. That had to explain why she had almost slept with Erik. Just as she could not regret having Antonio, she could not regret what had almost happened last night.

It should not have happened but it felt so right. How could anything that seemed so right be so wrong?

After being with him again, she was not sure she would be able to let him go. But if Erik wanted to ignore his son, then she would have to forget about him. She would do it for Antonio.

It would break her heart again, but she would do it if she had to. For Antonio, she would let Erik go.


	10. Chapter 10

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 10**

"My feet are in ag-ony!" Antonio whined as he followed a step behind Christine.

Christine looked down at her son and sighed when she saw his grumpy little face. His green eyes were dull with boredom and his lips were turned down at the corners. It was not surprising that his feet were sore – she had been pulling him along with her, looking for something to wear for the last two hours.

After dropping Antonio off at preschool, Christine returned home to work on her novel. With Erik spending more time with her, Christine realised that she could no longer go constantly around in her typical mum outfit of jeans and a plain shirt. It was not until she went to collect her son that she realised that she was in need of something different to wear. She really had no choice but to take her son shopping with her.

"I would like to try these clothes on first, Antonio," Christine said with another suffering sigh. "Then we will sit down. We might even get a big milkshake!"

"Can I get one now?" Antonio raised his eyes hopefully to Christine's.

When Christine only shook her head, Antonio's face fell even further. Bored, frustrated and tired, Antonio began to amuse himself by pushing through the racks of clothes. She grabbed his hand and pulled him away from the clothes. Taking a look at his face – which was a pale purple – Christine realised how close he was to throwing a tantrum, and quickly decided that she would have to make do with whatever was in her hand. The last thing she wanted was to have other shoppers look at her as if she were a bad mother.

In the change room, she watched with a doting smile as Antonio climbed onto the little stool, relieved to rest his feet. After quickly trying on the clothes and asking Antonio's opinion, Christine pulled Antonio off the chair and to the nearest café. Hopefully with a full tummy and rested feet, he would quietly follow her to a home wares shop.

With Antonio happily playing on the indoor playground that was right next to the coffee, Christine was able to enjoy her coffee in peace. Her shopping sat on one of the spare chairs. Grinning, Antonio ran back up to the table to get Christine's attention.

"Watch me, Mummy!" he called, staying only long enough to assure himself that she was watching him before running back to the playground to slide head first down the slide.

Watching her son as he played happily with the other children, it took Christine a moment to realise that someone was standing at the table. She glanced up at the same time that she set her cup down with a clatter.

"Erik!" she squeaked. She glanced nervously at the playground to make sure that Antonio was too busy playing to notice that his mother had company.

Following Christine's gaze, Erik closely watched Antonio. It was perhaps the fourth time that he had seen the boy while he was awake. He could not help but grin as he watched the boy climbing up the outside of the equipment, going far higher than any other child.

"May I sit down?" he asked, gesturing a chair. When Christine nodded, Erik slid gracefully into the seat. "You've been shopping?"

Christine glanced at the bags and grimaced.

"I suppose all the shopping in those bags is for Antonio," Erik said, knowing how much Christine spoiled her son.

"No, it's not for Antonio," she said simply, not wanting him to know she had gone on a mad shopping spree so she would have something different to wear when Erik came over.

Erik looked closely at her, sensing that she was holding something from him. As he looked again at the collection of bags, Erik realised that the bags were from shops that no three-year-old boy would want to go into. He hid a smile as he realised that she had probably bought herself some clothes to wear with him.

"Well, it's interesting that you bought yourself something-"

"I never said that I bought stuff for myself," Christine protested too quickly.

Erik smiled widely at her and decided it would be best to change the subject. "I found this and thought you might it." He reached into the small bag he had been carrying and pulled out a small cardboard box and pushed it across the table.

Picking up the box, Christine turned it in her hand so she could read the label. She beamed at him and grabbed his hand in thanks. "_Twinings!_ You even remembered my favourite blend. Thank you!"

The money he had spent ordering in the box of tea from London had been worth it. Christine's smile and the way she clutched his hand had been worth that expensive box of tea.

"I'm amazed that you still remember my favourite tea," Christine said in wonder as she looked between their joined hands and Erik's face.

Erik chuckled and touched her cheek with the tip of a finger. "We spent half a day searching Venice for it, Christine. There was no way I could forget it." Then there were the times they had lazily sipped their tea and coffee in bed, reluctant to leave the comfort of their bed.

As if sensing Erik's thoughts, Christine continued, "I'll never forget all the times we had breakfast in bed in Venice."

They fell into a comfortable silence as they recalled the many hours they had spent together in Venice. No matter how hard they tried, neither was able to forget those two magical months. Christine certainly could not now that she had a constant reminder.

"He's fearless," Erik observed as he reluctantly pulled his gaze away from Christine's and watched Antonio's antics.

Christine laughed and nodded her head. "Some of the things he does frightens me. I often worry that he'll be beaten up at school for being so artistic and musical that I try and encourage his adventurousness."

Erik's expression became concerned when he thought of his childhood and the concern he had for Antonio's safety. The last thing he would ever want was for Antonio to be beaten at school because of a talent he had inherited. "That's a good idea. I wouldn't want that to happen either."

Christine looked over at Antonio to see him glaring at another child. Sensing that her son was about to launch into a tantrum, she quickly finished her coffee and then grabbed her bags. "Antonio's getting tired; we need to go home." She sighed as she realised that she was not going to be able to go to the home wares shop.

"Is it still all right for me to come over tonight?" Erik asked as he too climbed to his feet.

"Come over after eight," she answered distractedly over her shoulder as she raced after her son.

Erik watched Christine and Antonio go, impatiently counting down the hours until he would see Christine again.

* * *

She felt as if she were a teenager hiding a forbidden romance from her parents – not the other way around! However, the only way she could see Erik without worrying that Antonio would become attached to him was if her son was asleep or Phoebe was looking after him.

For the past several weeks, Erik and Christine had been watching Antonio's baby videos. He could almost believe that they were just another couple in love, watching TV side by side on the couch. The icy distance that Christine still clung to – particularly after what had happened at his place – however made it difficult to fully believe.

He had seen four Christmases, three birthdays and several other videos of Antonio singing, drawing and playing. It was almost possible to believe that he was looking at a miniature version of himself.

Christine was so intently watching the video of her son playing _Twinkle, Twinkle_ on the piano, her eyes full of pride that she failed to hear Antonio pad into the room. His pillow made scuffing noises as he dragged it along behind him. When he saw Erik, he dropped the pillow and looked intently at him.

"Hello," he said softly to Erik.

"Bubby, what are you doing up? It is well and truly past your bedtime," Christine said gently as she stood, stepped over Erik's outstretched legs and quickly went to her son.

In her mind she could imagine the thoughts going through Erik's and Antonio's minds. She did not want her son to know about Erik until she knew for certain how Erik felt about the child.

"Can I stay and watch with you?"

Christine shook her head. "You need to go back to your bed."

"But I want to watch videos with you!" he shouted as he gave Christine a shove and jumped up and down on his pillow. His temper fully roused, Antonio ran across the room, knocking anything within his reach down to keep Christine from catching him as he made his way to the couch. He knocked a photo frame onto the floor, shattering the glass. Once he was safely on the couch, he threw the cushions at Christine. "I don't want go to bed! I want to stay and watch videos! I want to watch videos! I don't want to go back to bed! _I don't want to!_"

"Antonio Gordon Daaé!" Christine shouted in English, too angry to deal rationally with her son. "You do not speak to Mummy like that! You do not scream at me and you do not throw things. Look at what you have done! You've broken the photo of Mummy and Antonio. You, mister, will go straight back to your bed now."

Antonio's anger was still in full swing as Christine picked him up and carried him to his bedroom. His flailing legs kicked her in the thigh, causing Christine to gasp with pain. She sat him down on his bed and waited for him to stop shouting before speaking.

"You have made Mummy very sad now, Antonio. When you threw all of Mummy's things onto the floor, you broke some of my things. The photo of Mummy and Antonio on the horse in the park is broken now. I liked that picture and now it is ruined," Christine finished, tears of frustration in her eyes.

Seeing his mother in tears finally eased Antonio's impressive temper. He dissolved into tears and tucked himself into a corner of the room, away from Christine. With an exhausted sigh, Christine pressed a kiss on the back of Antonio's head and left the room, leaving the door partly open so she would be able to hear when his tears finally ended.

She leant against the hall wall, her eyes closed, gathering her breath before she faced Erik. Her hands still shaking, she covered her face as she fought back another wave of sobs. When she opened them, she found Erik looking at her with what looked to be horror in his eyes.

"He will be fine," she assured him, convinced he thought her a bad mother. That was something she wished he had never seen. She did not often lose control over her temper like that. It was just unfortunate that Erik was there when it happened. "He'll just cry himself to sleep soon."

"Is he always like that?"

"_No! _He's usually very calm and talkative. He doesn't usually get angry."

Erik shook his head. "I mean his tantrums; are they always that explosive?"

"Always; since I can remember. He has a habit of picking up whatever is in his reach and destroying it. His temper is-"

"-A lot like my own," Erik finished for Christine.

Christine remained silent. She gave a jerky nod and then burst into loud sobs.

Uncertain how to comfort her – of if she would even allow him to – Erik stepped forward and led her away from the doorway with a gentle hand at her back. Once back in the family room, Erik wrapped his arms around Christine and held her close as they both cried.


	11. Chapter 11

**We'll Always Have Venice**

Chapter 11

"Why won't you let me see him when he's awake?" Erik whispered in defeat as he watched Antonio sleep. His son was asleep on his back, his arms stretched above his head and a stuffed toy on his stomach. He smiled softly; he often found himself in that very position. "He's my son."

Now that he realised that Antonio was his child, he was able to pick out his own characteristics in the boy. He never thought that he would care, but he took a strange delight in knowing that his son took after him as much as he did his mother. Everyday he was finding a little bit of himself in his child.

"We have been through this before, Erik," Christine said softly on a sigh. "I don't want him getting attached to you only to find that you never want to see him again. I could not bear to put him through that. He hasn't known a father and it's been very hard for both of us."

Tears made her eyes shine as she took a step closer to her son. "I have had to explain to him why the other children at the parks have a mother and a father and he doesn't. I have tired to be enough for him but it is hard when there are other children with both parents. He knows he's missing something."

Christine kissed Antonio lightly on the forehead, fixed his blankets and then left the room. She turned back to Erik, tears now flowing freely down her face.

"When you're sure that you can accept both of us and be a permanent part of Antonio's life, then I will let him see you."

* * *

Erik spent the entire day working on his musical. He decided to do a run-through and played it from beginning to end. He had expected it to take a few hours; instead, thanks to the distraction he felt because of Antonio and Christine, it had taken him the entire day.

He glanced up at the clock, aware, that not for the first time, he had lost track of time. He had to be at Christine's in an hour. He closed his score and went to get ready, eager to see Christine and his son.

* * *

"Where are you, Antonio?" Christine called out, unable to hide her laughter as she searched around hedges for her son. She heard a giggle and began to race after him.

She eventually caught up to him, grabbed him around the waist and swung him in her arms, laughing brightly.

Unbeknownst to Christine and Antonio, Erik watched from a distance. He watched the two play, unable to help feeling that he was invading a private moment. He admired the way that Christine was playing with her son and noted the way that it was so very different to his own cold upbringing. Finding their laughter contagious – even from the distance – Erik gave a short laugh.

* * *

Erik sat on the couch, watching Christine as she tidied up Antonio's toys. As he had for numerous nights, he had spent an hour or so watching videos and looking at his son. Now, he and Christine were alone.

Once the task was done, Erik saw her uncertainty as she tried to decide which seat to take. Patting the seat beside him, Erik's face relaxed when Christine sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Christine began, embarrassed. "Antonio was over-tired and it took a while to get him down. I didn't have a chance to tidy up before you arrived."

Erik shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It makes it look like a home."

Christine smiled at his reassurance and looked around at Antonio's paintings that hung on the wall, the toy box in the corner and the pile of children's DVDs. He was right; it looked like a home.

She gave a quick laugh. "You clearly haven't seen the house at its worst. It looks as if a cyclone has hit it!"

"That would be preferable," Erik muttered as he thought of his perfectly organised house and how, compared to Christine's, it seemed unwelcoming.

Christine looked as if she wanted him to explain himself, but decided against it. Instead she just shifted closer and burrowed into his side as she had so often done. She could not see, but she suspected that Erik was smiling.

"How's your musical?" Christine asked, changing the subject as she grabbed Erik's hand that had been resting casually along the back of the chair and placed it on her shoulder. "You still haven't played it for me."

"I played it the entire way through only a few days ago," he explained. "I need to make a few changes. When I'm convinced that it's perfect, I'll play it for you. I want to share it with you, Christine."

She smiled but then her face fell. Erik was so eager to share his creation with her that she felt guilty for not sharing her secret with him. One day, she promised herself, she would tell him that she was Imelda Jones. They lapsed into silence as Christine thought about what she would say when the time finally came.

As the silence stretched, Christine looked at Erik. She carefully analysed his face, taking in the changes that had occurred over the years. Sensing her looking up at him, Erik turned his head and, unable to help himself, kissed her. Christine's fingers were immediately buried in his hair as she pulled him close.

Afraid that she was falling in love with him all over again, and things were moving too quickly, Christine pushed away from him and rushed to the kitchen. She stayed there for a few minutes, trying to calm down. She stared at the glasses of wine she had just poured and counted to twenty.

Finally able to return to the family room, she turned and collided with Erik's chest. He pressed her against the wall of his chest as he kissed her deeply and passionately. His hands trapped her in his embrace. Pulling away from her, he stared down into her dark green eyes and then kissed her again. Christine clung to him, scared to let him go.

She gave him a quick, final kiss and then pulled her arms from around his neck. "You should go."

It took a moment for Christine's words to penetrate Erik's hazy mind. When they did he looked at her in a combination of confusion and anger. Most nights he would spend a few hours with Christine only to have her all but push him out the door.

"It's still early," he protested. He glanced around, trying to find a way to stay with Christine a little longer. "Let me stay and help you with the dishes."

She shook her head. "I'll do them in the morning. You should go."

"But why? Why do you push me out of the house every night as if you can't wait for me to go?"

Christine looked guiltily up at him and reached up to touch his cheek. "That's not how it is. I wish you could stay, Erik, but I don't want Antonio waking up in the morning to find a stranger in his home. Please, just leave."

Pulling himself from his world of pity, Erik looked at Christine to see the reluctance in her eyes. Feeling slightly mollified that she was as hesitant as he was to leave, Erik nodded and brushed her hair behind her ear.

Christine watched him leave the apartment. She slid the lock across the door and sank down onto the couch, wishing that Erik did not have to run back to his own home at the end of every night.

* * *

How could he have been such a fool as to let such a wonderful, loving and passionate creature such as Christine out of his life? He was an idiot to lose his temper in front of her all those years ago and let her go.

Now, he not only had Christine back in his life, but he had a son. He now had a family of his own.

His desire to have a family with children and grandchildren – and a beautiful woman – might just come true. The thought that he may finally have his greatest wish gave Erik the courage to take the next step.

* * *

Erik and Christine sat on the couch while Antonio slept, their fingers entwined as they both stared unseeingly at the TV.

"Christine, I've been thinking."

"Uh huh?"

"I want to be in Antonio's life."

Christine jerked away from him and looked him in the eye.

"I have watched him in his videos and I'm amazed at what a wonderful child you have raised, Christine. You have done such a remarkable job raising him that I cannot help but regret that I haven't been a part of his life." He sighed and took her hand back in his. "I wish I could have been there for his birth, Christine.

"I have no doubt that he is my child, Christine. I want to help you raise him. I want to be with you and Antonio. I don't know how I have survived without either of you for so long."

"Do you mean that?" she asked, unable to hide the hope from her voice.

Erik nodded and wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "I don't want to live without you or Antonio."

"Are you sure, Erik? If I introduce you to Antonio it's forever. You can't decide one day that you don't want either of us in your life."

"I will never leave, Christine. You and Antonio are mine and I'm not letting you go."

* * *

She felt sick.

Christine looked at the clock. The hand had not moved since she looked at it only a few seconds earlier. She had debated it, and thought about the best thing to do for her son. Taking Erik's opinions in mind, she decided that Antonio needed to know the truth. Today she had decided to introduce Erik to Antonio as his father.

Erik was expected at the apartment in only a few minutes. She wanted Antonio to have the security of his home when he found out that he had a father. She could not drop such a shocking piece of information on her son without offering him the comfort of a familiar place.

At precisely one o'clock, Erik knocked on the door.

Christine opened the door and stared at him, her eyes dark and her face pale with anxiety. She opened her mouth to say something to him but closed it when she could think of nothing to say. She looked at him, her expression more concerned than ever as she stepped back and allowed in entry into her apartment.

Erik, too, wanted to say something reassuring to Christine; he wanted to ease her anxieties. But, like Christine, he could not find the words that she needed. All he could do was squeeze her hand and wait as she went to collect Antonio.

"Mummy has something very important to tell you," she said nervously to Antonio a few minutes after Erik had arrived.

Antonio looked between the two adults, clearly confused. He sat on Christine's lap and waited for her to continue. "Yes, Mummy?"

"Do you remember that I told you that your daddy didn't live in England? I told you that we loved each other lots and lots but your daddy couldn't come to live in England with Mummy and Antonio."

Antonio nodded. "You and Daddy were angry."

Erik looked at Christine, unable to believe what she had told his son. Had he _known_ he had a son, he would have been there, taking an active part in the child's life. For his son's sake, he would have put aside the anger he felt towards Christine.

"Well, bubby, your daddy and I have been talking a lot lately. We decided that it was time that you met him."

"You finded him?" Antonio asked, his little eyes bright with excitement. He squirmed on Christine's lap. "Can I meet him?"

"This is your daddy."

Antonio frowned at Erik and shook his head. "You're Mummy's old boyfriend."

"I'm also your father," Erik said, unsure what else to say. He stepped forward and held his hands out to Antonio as Christine watched; secretly delighted that Erik was reaching out to his son.

"You're Daddy?"

Erik nodded. He could see the boy's mistrust reflected in his own eyes. It was all just too surreal. He did not know how to respond to being called Daddy for the first time in his life.

Antonio threw himself into Erik's arms and clung tightly to his neck, terrified that he would leave him again.


	12. Chapter 12

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 12**

"Christine."

Expecting to see Phoebe or Gabriel, Christine looked up from her task of reading the school newsletter. As always, she stood a short distance away from the other mothers. She was a good few years younger than most of the other women and did not feel that she belonged. "What are you doing here?" she demanded in surprise when Erik joined her in standing outside Antonio's classroom after preschool the very next day.

Erik looked at Christine, worried that his spur of the moment decision to be a regular father for Antonio had been the wrong one. Perhaps he had misjudged everything and last night's events. Maybe Christine did not really want him in Antonio's life the way that he decided he wanted to be.

"I thought I could pick up Antonio with you," he muttered, embarrassed. "That is if you don't mind." He cast a quick glance around at the other mothers, uncomfortable with the amount of attention they were giving him and Christine.

Christine was spared the effort of answering when Antonio came charging out of the classroom. He saw Erik and threw himself at Erik's legs, hanging on tightly. She watched, surprised at Erik's apparent paternal streak as he untangled Antonio from his legs and swung him up in his arms.

"You came and picked me up!" Antonio cried in delight as he hugged Erik's neck.

Christine looked uncomfortably at Antonio. This morning they had had tears when Antonio realised that Erik had not spent the night and would not take him to preschool. When Christine told him that Erik would be unable to pick him up, the tears turned into a tantrum. Erik had made his son's day.

"I thought we could go have afternoon tea," Erik said as he looked at his son.

"Can I have a milkshake?" Antonio asked eagerly but looked at Christine, waiting for her approval.

Seeing her son's bright green eyes, Christine immediately agreed. "If we're going to have afternoon tea, you need to hurry and get your bag."

Erik returned Antonio to the floor and together he and Christine Erik followed Antonio inside to collect his belongings. Stopping in front of Antonio's pigeonhole, the two waited as Antonio pulled everything to the floor, sat down and began to slowly shove everything in his bag.

"Did you do any paintings today?" Christine asked as she looked over at the papers hanging from the clothesline. Quickly Antonio pushed to his feet and ran over to collect his painting. "I didn't think you'd be here," Christine said softly to Erik.

"Did you think that I didn't mean what I said about wanting to be in Antonio's life?"

"No," Christine said softly, feeling guilty for doubting him. "I just didn't expect you to embrace fatherhood so quickly. But I'm glad that you are," she added quickly when she saw his face fall. "It means a lot to Antonio…and to me."

Antonio returned a moment later with his painting trailing behind him.

"Do you have everything?" Christine asked as she took Antonio's painting to admire.

At his nod, Erik bent to pick up Antonio's preschool bag and the three made their way back to the cars. Christine smiled at the sight of Erik carrying Antonio's small bag. With Antonio holding on to his left hand and the bag in the other, he looked like any other father.

A half hour later, Erik, Christine and Antonio were sitting in one of the coffee shops in one of the many parks. Christine looked over at a neighbouring table with a mother, father and two girls and smiled. Finally, her son had a normal family. Never again would he have to wonder why he was not like all the other kids.

"Would you like a little play on the playground?" Christine asked as they finished their afternoon tea.

Antonio was immediately on his feet, rushing towards the playground, but stopped when Christine called out sharply to him. Dragging his feet, he returned to the table only to be thrown over Erik's shoulder as the couple made their way to the playground.

Christine looked over at Erik and gave his arm a squeeze. He was struggling to be a father. He wanted to be like the other father and to show Antonio that he cared, but he was clearly still adjusting to his instant fatherhood. Regardless, she had to be thankful for his interest in his son. At least, for the first time, Antonio would be able to play and have both of his parents watching him. That would mean far more to him than his father's awkwardness.

He was finally like all the other children.

* * *

Erik sat alone in his apartment, depressed.

He was supposed to go over to Christine's apartment tonight to spend a bit of time with his new family, but at the last minute Christine called him and cancelled. He had been looking forward to being with Christine and Antonio and was unhappy to find he was forced to spend the night on his own.

He had hoped that this year, his birthday might be different. Maybe Christine would not remember that it was his birthday, but at least he would not be alone. However, as usual, his birthday was a disappointment.

With a sigh, he sat down in front of the piano. Some things would never change.

* * *

A few days later, Christine was at Erik's house while Antonio was at preschool, listening to a selection of songs from his musical. She sat curled into the corner of the lounge a she listened in rapt attention.

"That's amazing, Erik!" she gushed when he had finished playing his selection. "I really hope you're planning to have it staged. It is far too brilliant to not be heard by everyone."

Erik looked at her closely for a long minute before he nodded. He had always thought his musical was good, but he was worried that it was perhaps his own bias. Having Christine praise his work and encourage him to fulfil his dream, Erik decided that perhaps he should seriously consider staging his musical.

He crossed over to sit on the edge of the coffee table, pushed aside Imelda Jones' book, and looked at Christine. Without thinking, he picked her hands up and held them securely in his own. Reluctant to release his grip on Christine's hand, Erik used one hand to pour two glasses of wine.

Christine pulled the glass across the table, and in a moment of shock, the rim of the glass caught on the edge of the table and wine sloshed over the table. The red wine seeped across the table to be absorbed by Imelda Jones' book. Quickly releasing Christine's hand, Erik jumped to his feet and did what he could to save the book and prevent the wine from staining anything else. The table clean and the book drying, Erik looked at the clock and sighed.

"I suppose you need to go and get Antonio for lunch." He fought to keep the sadness from his voice. He had enjoyed sharing his music with Christine and hated that she would have to go – particularly after such an unfortunate moment.

Christine shook her head. "I told him we wouldn't have lunch today. So, I don't have to go for another few hours." She looked uncertainly at Erik only to find him grinning at her.

He had expected her to rush off to have lunch with Antonio. It never crossed his mind that she would make arrangements to have lunch with him! Falling silent as he thought of what he could do for lunch, Erik missed Christine's next words.

"What did you say?" he asked sharply, aware that Christine was waiting for a comment.

Christine smiled and shook her head. She had the same problem with Antonio not listening to her on a regular basis. "I said Antonio was happy to hear that we were going to spend the day together. I think he was hoping that we would pick him up and all go for lunch."

Erik looked at her, wondering if he was supposed to ask if she wanted to take Antonio out for lunch. "Did you want to pick him up?" he asked cautiously, hoping she would say no.

That offer was enough for Christine. She just shook her head and gave Erik a kiss on the cheek. She had seen the look of delight on his face when he realised that they would have a few more hours together before she had to go and pick up Antonio and knew how hard it was for him to suggest that they forgo their lunch.

"Let me help you," Christine insisted after a few moments of discussing where they would have lunch. In the end, Erik decided that he would make something for her. She had always seemed to enjoy ordering room service and eating dinner in bed.

"No. I'll make you a cup of tea and you can stay right where you are."

A few minutes later, Erik returned with the tea and handed it to Christine, pleased to see that she had not moved. Although she frowned at him when he once again ordered her to stay put, she smiled at him, delighting in the fact that someone else was taking care of her. He had even bought her her favourite tea just in case she came over.

"It's the best I could do without notice," Erik said apologetically as he placed a plate of ham risotto in front of Christine.

Christine looked up from the plate and smiled. Only Erik would apologise for serving her a risotto that looked as if it belonged in a restaurant. Hers never turned out like the one in front of her.

The two talked animatedly over lunch and when the time came for Christine to go and pick up Antonio, she paused in the doorway. "I really hope you'll think about presenting your musical, Erik," she said as she reached across the space to squeeze his hand. "I meant what I said earlier, your show is far too good to be missed."

* * *

Erik smiled smugly to himself when he found a shortlist of theatres he considered appropriate to hold his musical. Naturally, he would have to look at them and decide for himself, which one would be best for his show.

He had been reluctant to take the next step in his quest of performing his musical, but once he heard Christine's praise, Erik knew he had to do something. As long as Christine saw something in him and supported him, he knew that he would never stop until his show was performed for the entire world to see.

Perhaps he could even take Christine and Antonio with him. It would be their first holiday together! He smiled as he imagined a few days out of Paris with his family.

* * *

"Is he finally asleep?" Christine asked smugly as she handed Erik a spoon for the ice cream that sat on the coffee table.

Erik sighed as he accepted the spoon and took a large spoonful of ice cream. "Yes, thank goodness. I didn't think he'd ever go to sleep."

Christine raised her brows. "I told you not to play so roughly with him at this time of night."

Erik kissed her on the cheek. "I am sorry, Christine. I didn't realise how it would be. But I've learnt my lesson."

"Yes, you have!" She gave him another smug look as she popped the spoon of ice cream in her moth.

"So, now that I've got our son to sleep, what are we going to do?" Erik asked before he kissed her again, tasting the mint ice cream on her lips and tongue.

Christine sighed softly in delight when Erik called Antonio _our son_. That was the greatest thing he could ever say to her. She curled into his side and wrapped her hand around his, resting their joined hands on her thigh. Using his free hand, Erik tilted Christine's head back and kissed her softly and lingeringly on the lips.

When she took her time responding, Erik looked around. "Antonio's asleep; the place is quiet."

Christine allowed herself to be distracted by his kisses for a while longer. Eventually, she pulled away and enfolded her hands around his. "Next Friday is Antonio's birthday," she said softly, finally summoning the courage to broach the subject.

"He's a Scorpio too!" Erik exclaimed with a grin.

She nodded with a smile. "We normally have a special tea to celebrate. This year he's going to have afternoon tea with Adrien after preschool and then we're going to have our birthday tea. I would like you to come; Antonio will too."

"I'll be there; I promise."

Erik could not hold back his smile. He was part of a family now.

* * *

While Antonio was at preschool, Christine either spent her time searching for his birthday presents or with Erik. She wanted to make this birthday one that he would never forget. But, she thought with a smile a she looked over her shoulder at Erik who was busy pressing the buttons on a variety of toys as they walked down the toy aisle in one of Paris' many department stores, this was one birthday she was certain Antonio would never forget. He would not forget the first birthday he ever celebrated with his father.

"Grab that one!" Christine cried, when she heard the music coming from one of the toys Erik had just pressed. "Antonio will love that!"

Erik pulled the toy from the shelf and placed it in the basket he was carrying. He glanced down at the contents of the basket, which was overflowing with clothes, art supplies, books and toys for Antonio. As they made their way through the shop, Christine began to throw party supplies into the basket.

"Are you having lunch with Antonio?" Erik asked as he swapped the heavy basket from his left hand to his right. He always hated this part of the day when he had to ask Christine if she would be leaving him to have lunch with her son. It always seemed to cut short their time together. Perhaps he was selfish, but he did not want to share Christine.

"Not today," she said with a shake of her head. "The only way I got him to happily stay at preschool for lunch was by stopping off at the bakery and buying him a tart for his lunch!"

Erik laughed, amused by Antonio's antics and silently followed Christine to the registers. He carefully unpacked the items onto the counter and arranged them in neat piles.

"What is this?" he asked as he held up Imelda Jones' book.

"It's a book." She held back a smile when Erik raised his brows at her. "I ruined your copy the other day. Remember?"

Erik pulled out his wallet, prepared to pay for the book only to have it snatched from his hand and unceremoniously returned to his pocket.

"I'm buying it, Erik," she informed him in the voice she often used on Antonio. "Stop complaining and say thank you."

With a grin, Erik self-consciously wrapped his arms around Christine's body and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. "Thank you."

Half an hour later, Erik and Christine were sitting at a small table in a quiet café. "You really didn't have to do that," Erik continued, reluctant to accept Christine's gift.

"I know, but I wanted to. Besides, it was because of my lack of coordination that your book was ruined. I'm sure m-Imelda's book was cheaper than the tea you had imported for me."

"Yes, but-"

"Really, Erik!" Christine interrupted with a laugh. "I have never heard anyone protest receiving a present before. Antonio certainly never complains when I get him something."

It was Erik's turn to laugh. "That is because he's a three-year-old, Christine." He paused for a moment, turning serious. "I'm not used to getting presents."

Christine looked at him in surprise. He had clearly been uncomfortable with the entire gift process and was struggling to find the right way to react. Hadn't he received presents as a child? She was always lavishing presents on Antonio.

She reached across the table, squeezed Erik's hand and smiled. "We'll just have to make sure you get used to presents, won't we?"

Glancing down at the pile of shopping bags at Christine's feet, Erik grinned. "If you buy presents for me the same way you do for Antonio, I'm sure I'll be used to it in no time. The boy is spoilt."

"No, he's not; he's much loved," Christine protested vehemently. "I just want this birthday to be extra special; I don't want him to forget his first birthday with you."

Erik smiled as he rubbed his thumb over the back of Christine's hand. He wanted to kiss her, but was too shy to do it in the middle of a busy coffee shop. "What will you be doing for dinner?"

"Antonio hasn't said what he'd like. I always let him pick dinner. It's the only day in the year that I don't try to force vegetables into him! Last year we had a pizza night. I even made him a pizza for dessert." She smiled at the memory of the chocolate, ice cream and marshmallow pizza.

Erik looked at her uncertainly, not sure he liked the idea of eating pizza for dessert. "And you always decorate the house?" he asked, thinking back to the bags of party supplies she had recently bought.

Christine nodded. "With balloons, streamers and party hats. I do what I can to make it memorable for Antonio."

Erik fell silent as he admired the effort that Christine went to make sure her son had a memorable birthday. Even as a child, his birthdays had gone unnoticed. He was pleased that Antonio would always have at least one day that was special to him. At least Christine had always given his son that.


	13. Chapter 13

**We'll Always Have Venice**

MJ Mod, things will change for Erik...Happy belated birthday!

* * *

**Chapter 13**

Erik felt like a fool.

He was sitting at the small dining table with Christine and Antonio enjoying Antonio's requested birthday dinner of fish and chips served with Yorkshire puddings, wearing a party hat. The moment his son approached him with the silly hat and a grin lighting his face, Erik knew he couldn't refuse. Over halfway through the meal, Antonio was still grinning with happiness at his parents. No doubt the little boy felt like part of a normal family.

Looking around the dining room, Erik could not help but notice the vast difference between his own birthday memories and the ones that his son would have. Christine had tied small bunches of balloons to the back of every chair. She had also draped crepe streamers and more balloons around the ceiling.

She had even made a cake for Antonio to share with his preschool friends. Erik's mother never did anything like that for him. Last night, after she had put Antonio to bed, Christine had rushed about the kitchen like a madwoman, between the benches, pantry and fridge. Erik watched her from the safe side of the kitchen, amused at her antics, but impressed with the final product. Antonio had loved the cake when he saw it the following morning. It was all Christine could do to stop him from tasting the icing from the cake for breakfast.

After he had gorged himself on his second cake of the day, Antonio threw himself on the lounge in front of the pile of presents and looked expectantly at his parents. Laughing, Christine and Erik watched as he tore through the paper of one present before quickly moving on to another.

"That one's from Daddy," she said when Antonio picked up a small box.

Even more excited than before, Antonio ripped the paper and looked at the range of high quality art supplies that Erik had given him. His little face lit up.

"What is it?" Christine asked brightly as she looked over Antonio's shoulder.

"Pencils and paints!"

"They're great. You'll have to do some painting with Daddy." Her smile became less strained when she saw how the suggestion of spending time with his father lit up Antonio's face. "What do you say?" she tried to prompt him.

Antonio paused as he tried to think of what he was supposed to say. Smiling, he threw himself at Erik, his arms wrapping around his neck and gave him a hard kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Daddy."

After a moment of shock, Erik wrapped his arms around his son's little body and looked at Christine over the top of his head. The couple smiled at each other.

* * *

A week after Antonio's birthday, Erik hugged Christine as they sat together on the lounge after they had put Antonio to bed. Christine had surprised him by throwing a belated birthday party, complete with balloons and streamers, a cake and presents. The highlight was when Antonio had drawn a picture of his family – which included Erik! That was better than anything he could ever possibly have imagined. The picture was lying on the coffee table where he could easily see it.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble, Christine," Erik said softly as he kissed the top of her head.

"Yes, I did. I didn't see you on your birthday, but I couldn't have you thinking that I didn't care. You're birthday's less than three weeks before Antonio's, I can't show only one of my boys favouritism."

"Thank you," he said gratefully as he hugged her tighter. "This is the first birthday that I'll never want to forget."

Christine looked up at him sharply. He had never spoken on his childhood, but she had always had the impression that it was something he would rather forget.

"My parents hated me." He gave a mirthless chuckle. "The feeling was mutual. Even as a child I tried to run away numerous times. I never got very far. That was only because I never seemed to pack enough food. If I hadn't gone back inside for something to eat, I doubt my parents would have come searching for me."

Christine let out a sad whimper as she imagined a little boy running away from home. It would have been terrible for little Erik to believe that his parents would not go looking for him. If Antonio ever left, her heart would break. She would not stop until she found him. She squeezed Erik's hand tightly.

"My father hated me. I think he thought my mother had cheated on him and I wasn't his child," Erik continued. "And my mother hated my birthday, probably because it was the day that she had given birth to a monster – a day best forgotten by everyone."

"That's not true!" Christine cried as she climbed to her knees so she could look him in the eye. "I don't know your parents, but I do know what it is to be a parent. I can't imagine a mother ever hating her son. No matter what he may do, I could never hate Antonio.

"Your birthday needs to celebrated," she said softly as she pressed a kiss to his cheeks. "Whatever are the circumstances of your birth, they don't matter. All that matters is that you're here with Antonio and me. We're your family now and we _will_ celebrate your birthday."

* * *

Erik looked down at the very grumpy Antonio and held back a grin. The two had been shopping for almost an hour and already Antonio – and Erik also – was beginning to tire of looking around the shops amid the Christmas rush.

"I'm tired of shopping for Mummy," he grumbled, beginning to drag his feet.

Erik ruffled his son's hair. "Would you like to get a hot chocolate and have a break from shopping?"

He never imagined the simple act of shopping with his son could be so rewarding or enjoyable. He was aware that people were looking at him and his mask but with Antonio to keep in line and entertained, he could not sacrifice his attention for these strangers. Ensuring Antonio's safety was far too important for Erik. Christine had finally allowed him to spend time one-on-one with his son; he would not allow anything to distract him from his son's safety and the trust Christine had placed in him.

At Antonio's eager nod, Erik led him towards a coffee shop. "But," he said warningly, "We need to find something for Mummy before we go home."

* * *

_"Argh!"_

Erik glanced uncertainly at Christine as she busily prepared tea and continued to ignore their son.

"What is he doing?" he asked, watching Antonio rush around the apartment, looking under the chairs and in drawers and boxes.

Christine looked over her shoulder and smiled at Antonio's frustrated expression. He stood glaring at the couch, his hands on his hips and his lips in a pout. She smiled and returned her attention to tea.

"Christine. Why is our son climbing up the pantry?" Erik asked a minute later as he watched Antonio climb up the shelves. He grasped Antonio around the hips and set him down on the floor and out of the way.

"I'm looking for my presents!" Antonio said with a frown. "I can't find them!"

"I hid his presents on the top shelf of the pantry last year," Christine explained. "I have to hide them in a different place every year or he'll find them and ruin the surprise."

Erik grinned. Now he knew what Christine was doing with her overnight bag yesterday. For a moment he was worried that she was going to leave, but now he knew that she was hiding Christmas presents from inquisitive little eyes.

"Mummy's right," Erik said sharply to his son. "Stop looking for your presents or you won't be surprised when we open them in a few days. Think how sad Santa, Mummy and I will be. You'll ruin Christmas for us, too."

Antonio's face screwed up and his lip wobbled as he fought to hold back tears. "I don't want to ruin Christmas!"

"You won't ruin Christmas as long as you stop looking for your presents." Seeing his son's upset, Erik threw Antonio over his shoulder and began to tickle his waist. Antonio's tears turned to giggles. "Let's throw you in the bath before tea. Give your mother a kiss."

Erik righted his son and lifted Antonio so that he could kiss his mother's cheek.

"Tea will be ready in ten minutes; be fast you two."

Grinning, Erik kissed Christine and headed down the hall.

"And try not to flood the bathroom!" she shouted down the hall, knowing it was a wasted warning.

Erik's cackle filled the apartment.

* * *

A thoughtful expression on his face, Erik watched Christine tidy up the kitchen after he had put Antonio to bed on Christmas Day. "I want you and Antonio to move into my house."

Christine stopped her task and slowly turned around to face him. She looked at him with wide green eyes and blinked.

"What?" she whispered.

"I want you and Antonio to live with me," he repeated, concerned by her reaction. She had done nothing but blink at him in confusion, as if he had just asked her to fly to the moon.

"No."

It was Erik's turn to be confused. His face fell and he stood on shaking legs and walked away from her. In an attempt to make everything right between them and give his son the family he should have had, he had decided to suggest that Christine move in with him. He was so confident that it was what they both wanted that he hadn't considered that she might turn him down.

Their first Christmas together as an almost-family had gone precisely as he had imagined it in his fantasies. He arrived for breakfast with pastries, opened presents and spent the rest of the day playing with Christine and Antonio while watching Christmas shows on TV before having a traditional English Christmas dinner.

He recalled the way that Christine looked at the pile of presents under the tree with a great deal of confusion. There were several that did not belong to either Erik or Antonio – nor had she bought them for herself. She obviously had not been given presents in a long time and she clearly did not expect him to buy her anything.

His wondrous Christmas falling apart at Christine's refusal, Erik walked away from her. He turned his back on her and stared out the window.

Christine padded softly across the floor and wrapped her arms around Erik's waist, resting her cheek on his back. Unable to stop himself, Erik flinched when he felt her hands press against his chest. He grasped her hands, trying to make her release him but gave up with an angry frown when she entwined her fingers with his. The silver bracelet he had given her earlier in the day glistened in the fairy lights that were wrapped around the Christmas tree.

"It's not that I don't want be with you," she began softly. He threw her a disbelieving glance over his shoulder. "_Our_ happiness isn't my main concern, Erik. I need to think about Antonio."

"And would he not benefit to have his father in his life?" he demanded angrily as he finally turned around, causing Christine to release him. His body swelled with anger as he glared down at her, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sure he would," she admitted quietly, touching his arm. "Antonio's life has been turned upside down in the last few months since we moved from London. He's had to adjust to living in a new country, making new friends at preschool. Until coming here had never really had any friends or a male in his life! I cannot ruin his newfound stability now."

Erik frowned at her as he tried to sieve through the information she had just given him and read between the lines. "Are you asking me to move in here with you?"

Christine nodded.

Erik relaxed slightly. "If I do move in with you, Christine, I refuse to be forced into another bed. If we do this, we do this how we should have done it years ago."

Holding her hands out to Erik, she nodded her head, waiting for him to come to her.


	14. Chapter 14

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 14**

Christine and Erik fell into a pattern of domesticity that thrilled Christine. She loved everything about the new situation. They would often spend hours searching the shops for items for Christine's apartment that suited Erik's taste as much as her own.

Antonio was overjoyed to be part of a normal family, having his father living with him and his mother. He loved knowing that Erik would be there when he woke up. He also loved that Erik was there to help with his French, art and music in ways that Christine could not. Her son had now had his father in his life and was blossoming.

It did not take Christine long to adjust to having Erik by her side…and in her bed. After being alone for so long, and wanting Erik to hold her again, Christine was silently delighted that Erik had insisted that they sleep together. For the first time in years, she was waking up with Erik beside her.

For the first time since Antonio was born, Christine had someone to help in his care and discipline. Erik was exactly what she needed and was more than happy to take his share of responsibility concerning his son.

* * *

Christine retuned from putting Antonio to bed just as Erik suggested. She did not know what he was up to, but suspected it would not be good. When she saw the living room lit only by a couple of candles, she stopped short and smiled.

A moment later, she was in his arms, hugging him tightly as he collapsed onto the couch, taking her with him. Laughing, Christine repositioned herself so she was tucked into the side of his body. Erik handed her a glass of wine and the couple settled back in the darkness.

With her head resting on his shoulder, Christine held tightly on to Erik, needing to possess him and assure herself that he was real. Despite the fact that Erik had been living with her for almost two months, she still had moments when she could not believe that she and Erik were back together. Surprisingly, Erik did not seem to be concerned by the way she would often cling to him and hold him close. In fact, he seemed to enjoy the sense of security it offered.

"This is lovely," Christine said with a sigh as she closed her eyes and tightened her grip even more on Erik's arm. She was exhausted and struggling to keep her eyes open, but was determined to enjoy the moment with Erik. "We need to do this more often; just sitting quietly after Antonio's gone to bed."

Erik nodded and kissed the top of Christine's head. "Just being here with you is enough."

Christine smiled and, if possible, snuggled even closer against his body. For the first time in five years, she felt like a woman. She was so used to taking care of Antonio and putting his needs before her that she forgot what it was like to be treated as something other than a mother. With Erik at her side, he managed to break the monotony of waking, caring for Antonio, closing her eyes and then doing it all again. For a while, it was nice to enjoy the quiet – just the two of them – without Antonio's noise.

"Will we still do this when we're old and grey?" Christine asked drowsily.

Sensing her tiredness, Erik took the glass from her hand and placed it on the table before she could spill it. "We'll spend the entire day sitting side by side when we're old. The only time we'll be apart is when you're running around the kitchen making a pot of English tea when Antonio and his children come to visit us."

Christine laughed at Erik's accurate description of herself and her unbreakable habit of brewing pots of English tea. She certainly loved the idea of staying by Erik's side for the rest of their lives and becoming a grandmother.

Both content with the image of their future, Erik and Christine lapsed into a companionable silence.

* * *

"Antonio," Erik said gently from the kitchen, trying to get his son's attention. "Pumpkin, it's time to get ready for lunch."

Antonio continued to ignore him as he studiously played with his diggers on the floor. Erik looked at Christine who was preparing lunch with him and then back at Antonio and narrowed his eyes, unimpressed. He carried their plates to the table and called to Antonio again.

"Bubby, time for lunch," Christine called, supporting Erik when Antonio did not move.

Antonio ignored his mother and turned his attention from the diggers to his box of Lego.

"Antonio!" Erik said sharply in a low voice, which caused the little boy's head to snap up. "It is lunchtime, put your toys away and come have lunch with us."

"No!" the boy shouted. "I want to keep playing."

"You can play after you finish your lunch."

"No!"

"Antonio!" Erik shouted as he climbed to his feet. He planted his hands on the table and frowned down at his son. "It is time to eat."

"I don't want to."

Christine was about to intervene when Erik shot her a look. "Antonio! Put your toys away and come up here. You need to eat your lunch!"

When Erik stood and walked around the table, prepared to carry his child to the table, Antonio was on his feet, running away. Erik caught him in a tight embrace and returned to the dining room.

"I want to play!"

Erik continued to ignore Antonio and placed him on his usual seat. Pointing his finger in his face, Erik instructed him to stay still.

"I don't want to eat!"

"Stay there until your mother and I have finished our lunch then."

Without saying a word, his face purpling with rage, Antonio was out of his chair and sending his plate of food onto the floor.

Christine sat back and watched, as for the first time in her life, she was not required to deal with her son. It was a relief to have someone to help and take responsibility. It was even better to not be on the receiving end of Antonio's temper.

From her place at the table, Christine could hear Antonio and Erik shouting from the boy's bedroom. She shivered with fright at the sound of their raised voices, imagining the results of their combined tempers. She heard a smash and worried who had thrown what. For a moment she wondered if she should go and check on the boys. It probably was not a good idea to allow those two, with their terrible tempers, to be in the same room together while in a rage.

"Stay here until you're ready to eat your lunch. Then you can come out, apologise and we will make you a sandwich," Erik shouted at the now silent Antonio.

A moment later, Erik returned to the table, breathing heavily, his face red. He sat down next to Christine, squeezed her hand and focused on his lunch. "He's fine," he assured her when he saw her worried expression. "He's sulking but unhurt."

She nodded, relieved and watched Erik calmly applying himself to his lunch for a minute. "You're cut!" Christine cried when she saw the thin trail of blood that dripped down his hand.

Erik looked at the wound and wiped it away with a negligent shrug.

"What happened?"

"Antonio threw one of his toys at the lamp and broke the bulb. I cut my hand picking up the glass. I'll vacuum his room, just in case I missed some glass."

The couple shared a look, both silently aware that Antonio and Erik had the same terrible temper. For a moment, she worried that he would leave her or would eventually lose his temper. Christine's face paled as she silently returned her attention to her lunch.

* * *

Christine cried silently to herself in the dark of her room that night. After such an explosive situation with Antonio earlier that day, Christine would not have been surprised if Erik suddenly decided that he was not suited to fatherhood. She was not sure what she would do if he decided that he didn't want to be a part of their family. How would she be able to mend her son's heart? How would she be able to mend her own heart?

A series of knocks on the door disturbed Christine from her misery and a moment later Erik stood silhouetted in the doorway. She thought he was happily watching a movie on TV and did not want him to see her like this. She took a deep breath as he flicked on the light and looked up at him with red teary eyes.

"I thought I heard you crying," Erik whispered as he stepped into the room, dressed in his pyjamas, and pulled Christine into his arms. He kissed her lightly on the lips. He lay down next to her, pulling her against his side. Christine moulded herself along his body and clung to him tightly, her head resting on his chest as she continued to cry.

"Why are you crying?" he asked softly as her tears soaked through his shirt.

She shook her head. It was everything and nothing. Having Erik's arms wrapped tightly around her body calmed her and chased away all the demons.

"I've never seen Antonio so out of line before. I hope that that hasn't put you off being a father. You won't leave, will you, Erik?" Christine asked as she twisted on the bed to look him in the eyes. "I have been alone for so long that it is nice to have someone to hold me and to share the responsibility of raising Antonio."

"I won't leave either of you," he promised softly as he kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Something tells me this isn't the first night you've tried to cry yourself to sleep or wished that I was here to comfort you."

Unable to think of a response, Christine nodded and snuggled closer to Erik, almost lying on top of him in her attempt to accept the comfort that he offered. She sighed, kissed him lightly on the chin and then closed her eyes, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

A few hours later, Erik awoke when a little finger poked him lightly in the arm. He rolled over, careful not to disturb Christine, failed and then sat up. "What is it, Antonio?" he asked softly.

"Can I sleep with you and Mummy?"

"Hop in on my side," Erik said softly, wanting Christine to go straight back to sleep. His poor love was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He lifted the covers for Antonio to climb under.

Antonio ignored his father's instructions and climbed over him and settled between his parents. He gave them both a kiss and then clung tightly to Erik's arm.

"Are you _really _sure you still want this?" Christine asked. "It never ends." She could not imagine Erik allowing his son to come between them. Years ago, she had imagined this very scene with Erik very happily allowing their son to sleep with them. Theirs would be a perfect family. However, after the awkward meeting, which was nothing how she had hoped, she had learnt not to wish too hard.

"What do I have to do to convince you that I'm not going anywhere? I'll take the good with the bad," he whispered as he found her hand in the darkness, raised it to his lips and then closed his eyes.

Christine smiled in the dark, a big tear rolling down her cheek.

* * *

The next morning, while Antonio was still asleep Christine clung tightly to Erik as she drifted in and out of sleep. As she looked at Antonio still asleep and curled into Erik's side she fought back tears.

"It's real, Christine," Erik said softly as he raised his hand and pushed the hair away from her eyes. Her long hair was fanned across his pillow and Erik inhaled the scent. "I'm here to stay; I'm not going anywhere."

Christine smiled through her tears as she shifted, careful not to disturb Antonio, so she could look at Erik. She did not know he was awake, and she certainly did not know how he knew what she was thinking.

"I know you still doubt that I want to accept the tough aspects of parenthood, but I want you to stop. That flash of Antonio's temper is not going to scare me away. I'm here for you and Antonio."

Christine opened her mouth to ask if he meant that, but stopped when she saw his face.

"I mean it, Christine. We're a family now. I love you and Antonio and I will not be leaving either of you."

The tears she had tried to hold back, fell down her cheeks as she reached across Antonio's body to hug Erik. With a grumpy moan, Antonio opened his eyes and glared at his parents. Wiggling out of bed, he padded into the living room, leaving Erik and Christine alone.

"Besides, my love," Erik began as he closed the space between Christine and himself, "If I were a fool and decided to leave you and Antonio because of Antonio's temper or a sleepless night, I would miss out on these moments." He kissed her lightly. "I will _never_ give them up."

* * *

Erik spent the next few days doing everything he could to convince Christine that he was planning to stay in her life forever. He could see how insecure she currently was and how desperately she needed evidence of his affection for her. So, Erik set about convincing her by embracing his roles of father and lover.

He spoilt Christine with breakfasts in bed, prepared lunch for Antonio, spent time running errands and discussed her day and concerns. Anything she needed, he did. He was always at her side, keeping her company and showing that he cared

One day, while making lunch for himself and Christine, Erik decided that he had had enough fake coffee. Admittedly his English partner had little time for anything other than tea, if he was going to stay with her, he wanted _real _coffee. He could not live with any more of that freeze dried coffee.

Bravely interrupting Christine's writing, Erik dragged her to a department store, ready to purchase a coffee machine.

"Why do you want a coffee machine?" Christine asked in confusion as she trailed after him in the electronics section. "What's wrong with the stuff I buy?"

"Coffee tastes better when it comes from a machine, Christine," he said, distracted as he looked at an impressive machine. He reached out a hand and played with the group head. "Besides, I would like to wake every morning and have a good cup of coffee. The best way to do that is to have a machine at your home."

Christine looked at him intently, carefully weighing up his words. When she realised that he meant to buy an expensive machine that would stay at her apartment, she smiled and impulsively hugged him. He had no need to buy something for her apartment if he did not intend to stay with her.

His efforts over the last few days now made sense. He was doing what he could to convince her that he was happy with her and Antonio. What could be a clearer way to show his determination to stay at her side than to invest in a several thousand euro appliance.

Smiling brilliantly at him, she hugged his arm. "Will you make coffee for me in the mornings?"

Erik grinned and placed a quick kiss on her lips. "I would love to."


	15. Chapter 15

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 15**

"Get dressed, Christine; we have tea reservations," Erik instructed the moment he emerged from the bathroom two months after he had moved in with Christine.

Christine looked up from the book she had been reading with Antonio in surprise. "What? Erik, I can't. What about Antonio?" She shook her head vehemently.

"Can I come too?" Antonio asked his parents, his green eyes lighting with excitement.

"No, bubby," Erik said, using Christine's pet name from their son.

Antonio frowned and fixed Erik with a glare as dark as his own. "Mummy calls me bubby; not you. I pumpkin."

Erik grinned at his son, reminded of himself. "No, darling pumpkin, not tonight," he said, his tone indicating his regret. "I think Adrien is coming over to play with you for a little while."

Antonio smiled, placated. "Adrien's coming to play?"

Christine looked sharply at Erik.

"I've asked Phoebe to look after Antonio."

"Erik, I can't. I can't just leave him here while we go out."

"Come on, darling pumpkin," Erik said to Antonio, ignoring Christine's announcement as he bent down and picked Antonio up from the couch. "Let's get you ready for Adrien. While we're picking some toys, your mummy is going to have a shower."

"Erik…" Christine's voice trailed off when she head three knocks at the door. With his son in his arms, Erik opened the door and grinned at Phoebe as she stood in the doorway with Adrien. Waving her inside, Erik left the women alone as he took the two boys to find some toys.

"Why aren't you getting ready?" Phoebe asked, amazed that Christine was still sitting on the couch, the book open and forgotten on her lap.

"The whole idea is ridiculous. I can't go out to dinner and leave Antonio."

"I will be here with him in case something happens. But, Chris, he'll be asleep soon. There really isn't any reason why you shouldn't enjoy yourself just a little," Phoebe insisted gently.

"What did he say to you to convince you to side with him?" Christine demanded as she crossed her arms across her breasts.

"He told me that he's Antonio's father and that the two of you haven't had a chance to be together in years."

Christine blushed. "He told you that?" she asked, amazed that Erik had told Phoebe so much. It had taken her two weeks of spending nearly every waking moment with him to get such a great deal of intimate information from Erik that it was simply astounding that he had told Phoebe that he was Antonio's father.

Phoebe just nodded. "He really wants to spend some time alone with you, Christine. He said something about not spending quality time with you alone since Hotel _something_ Palace." Phoebe shrugged in confusion. That was just one of the many veiled comments that Erik had dropped in his conversation with her. She did not know what it meant, but she was sure that Christine would.

Erik emerged from the bedroom to see Christine blushing. He had heard Phoebe's comment about their time in Venice and knew what Christine was thinking. Ending up in the same bed tonight wasn't Erik's goal. All he really wanted to do was get to know how his lover had changed in the last few years without their son to interrupt the conversation.

"I really don't think that we should go out."

She wanted to be with him so desperately it hurt but she didn't want her need to be obvious. Nor did she want to spend a night with Erik in an upmarket, pretentious restaurant. If she was going to go out with him, she wanted it to be an intimate tea with no interruptions.

Sure that he had her convinced that tea out would be a good idea, Erik crossed the room and kneeled in front of her seat. He cupped her cheeks in his large hands and looked pleadingly into her eyes. "Don't fight me on this, Christine." He leant forward and dropped a light kiss to her lips. "Please, go and get ready."

"Erik, I'm tired and would prefer to stay in tonight." She sighed heavily, seeming to put up one last fight.

He paused as he tried to adjust his plans for the evening. "You won't get out of dinner that easily, Christine," he informed her in a tone he often used on Antonio. "I've booked dinner in a quiet restaurant. I won't keep you up late."

Nodding, Christine left the room, leaving the two conspirators alone. Ten minutes later, much to Erik's surprise, Christine emerged from the bathroom ready to go out for tea. When they had been together in Venice, it would take her a minimum of thirty minutes to get ready when they wanted to go out. Erik supposed that it was because of Antonio and her need to see to him – and probably because she didn't want to spend too much time on herself – that she was now able to get ready quickly.

After a quiet dinner where they were able to talk without interruption, Erik wrapped his arm around her waist and led her down the hallway to her apartment.

Just inside the doorway, Christine stood on her toes and grabbed Erik's shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she dragged Erik from his great height down to her dainty height so that she would be able to kiss him. She moaned deeply into his mouth when she felt his tongue trace her lips.

"Good night, Chris, Erik," Phoebe said with a bright flush as she snuck out of the apartment, with the sleeping Adrien, unseen and unheard by the embracing couple.

Christine pulled him close, desperate to possess him, body and soul, if just for a short time. Erik lifted her from the floor so that she was forced to wrap her legs around his waist, feeling secure in her need for him. He walked her to the bedroom, unable to pull his lips from hers.

* * *

Erik rolled over in bed to face Christine's relaxed profile. He ran his fingers through her hair that had fanned out over her pillow and pressed a kiss to her locks. "Christine, are you awake?"

"How can I not be?" She rolled onto her side and touched his face. "What's troubling you? You've been tossing and turning for an hour."

"I need to go away for a few days." In the darkened bedroom, Erik imagined Christine's expression of horror and disappointment. "There's a theatre in Melun that I would like to look at before I buy it and start auditioning for my musical. I've been trying to put this off for over a month, but it has to be done. This show has been so long coming that I'm more determined than ever to see it finished."

Christine turned on the lamp and looked at Erik closely as if somehow she would be able to read his intention on his face. Contented with whatever she saw there, she nodded.

"When will you go?"

"I'll leave the day after tomorrow. I'll call everyday that I'm away," he promised kissing her lightly on the lips and pulling her against his body, hoping to get more sleep.

* * *

"You're going away?" Antonio asked, his little face turned up in concern. He sat in the middle of the pile of pillows and cushions at the head of Erik and Christine's bed, watching as Erik put his clothes in a small suitcase.

"I'm going away for a few days to look at some theatres," Erik responded as he sat next to Antonio, sensing that his son was about to throw a tantrum at the thought of being separated again.

"Can I come?"

"No, pumpkin. It will be very boring."

Antonio looked at his father, not quite convinced that Erik was telling the truth. He was still worried that his father would leave him again, just as he had for years and years!

"And I'll only be gone a few days. I'll be back before you know it!"

Antonio shook his head as he eyes welled up with tears. "You and Mummy fighted again! You won't come back!"

Stretching out his arms, Erik pulled Antonio onto his lap and held him tightly, pressing kisses to the top of his head. "Mummy and I didn't fight. I have to go away for a few days, but I'll be back. I promise, I'll come back."

Antonio raised his tearstained face and looked at Erik, as if trying to decide if his father was telling the truth. Whatever he saw there convinced him that Erik was telling the truth. He climbed off Erik's lap and returned to his place in the middle of the cushions.

For the rest of the day, Antonio followed Erik around the house. Every time Erik turned around, Antonio was there. Quite a few times, he had to stop quickly before his stood on his son's feet. He was torn between amusement and concern that his son was following him so closely. Although he thought otherwise, he was not completely convinced that Antonio believed he would return. Judging by the way Christine always seemed to be in the same room, she too was having her doubts.

* * *

Later that night, Christine returned from putting Antonio to bed to find Erik reading Imelda Jones's book. If his behaviour throughout the day was any guide, she did not think Antonio would be staying his bed tonight. By the early hours of the morning, Antonio would be in their bed. She looked at him and noticed that he was so absorbed in the book that he did not realise she was watching him. His eyes were filled with tears. Christine had to guess that he was reading the scene that was inspired by their violent parting.

"Let me guess, Valentine has been interfering. Enrico is breaking up with Isabelle." She pushed herself away from the wall and approached him.

Erik glanced up at Christine in surprise. The book fell guiltily from his hands. "Is it that obvious?"

Christine nodded and picked up the book, cradling it against her breast. Unable to help herself, she wiped a tear from his cheek. "That scene always makes me cry. I've read the book more than a dozen times and I still cry." She sat down beside him on the couch.

Erik wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her to his side. "Enrico was an idiot to allow Valentine to interfere in his love life."

"Yes, but Valentine was just doing what he thought was best for his friend," she said, defending her characters.

"Valentine didn't want to be left behind," Erik debated, "Which would have been the problem if Enrico had married Isabelle. Isabelle never did anything to suggest that she was using Enrico as Valentine thought."

Christine looked at Erik in surprise. "You're one of the few people to realise that Valentine was interfering, not for Enrico's sake, but for his own," she said, proudly.

Her comment made Erik pause. Why would she be so proud that he was one of the few who had figured out what Valentine was up to? How could she even know for certain what the author intended? The thoughts fled his mind when she kissed him.

"I can be very observant," he insisted. "I just hope Valentine gets his comeuppance. Hopefully either Enrico or Francesca will pay him back for his interference."

"Francesca?" she asked sweetly, confused. She did not think he had found her manuscript – that was now in at the publisher's. Maybe she had foreshadowed Valentine and Francesca's relationship too much.

"It's clear that Francesca and Valentine will end up together in the next book. I just hope that he has a hard time with Fran."

Christine smiled. Francesca certainly would give Valentine a run for his money. Fran would make him pay for interfering in her best friend's relationship with Enrico.

"And what would Valentine have to do to convince Francesca that they belong together?"

Erik grinned. "Well, first he would have to wait to be alone with Fran."

"Well, we're as alone as we'll ever be," Christine said with a smile of her own as she glanced around to assure herself that Antonio was still in bed. "Then what would he do?"

"He'd make sure that the lighting was romantic." He turned off the lamp. "And then he'd have Fran close her eyes –" he waited for Christine to close her eyes – "and then he would kiss her until she has dropped all defences."

Suiting in actions to his words, Erik kissed her. Christine gave a contented sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck. Passionately, she returned his kisses. Her fingers were about to work their way down his shirt when she stopped herself.

"What would he do then? Once she has succumbed?" she asked huskily.

"He would take her to bed and spend the night making love to her."

Christine smiled as she kissed Erik again. He scooped her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. Christine pulled her lips away from Erik's and gave him another smile. "Maybe Imelda will take a leaf out of your book; you're very inspiring, Erik."

* * *

With Erik gone, Christine decided to keep Antonio from preschool. She knew how worried he was that Erik would not come back and so did not want him to think that she too was leaving him. She was so used to always having someone with her that it suited her to have Antonio by her side. She did not think that Antonio would mind a long weekend.

Doing her best to keep his mind from his father, Christine took Antonio to a park where they played and had a picnic lunch. After that, they went to a department store, looked at the toys and picked up some food for tea.

Every time he stopped, she could see the sadness and fear in his green eyes. She and Erik had tried numerous times to assure Antonio that his father would return after he had finished his business in Melun, but Antonio was still unconvinced. The only way he would believe it was when Erik returned.

Christine was also nervous that Erik would not return. She hated herself for doubting him. He promised that he would come back and he would; he had so many reasons to return to Paris. For Antonio's sake, she concealed her concern and tried to act as if nothing was worrying her. She was not looking forward to sleeping alone for the first time in months.

"Can you get the mail?" Christine asked, her hands full of bags, as Antonio raced up the front stairs of the apartment after his long day out.

Following his mother's instructions, Antonio pulled the mail from the letterbox; accidentally leaving a letter that was addressed to _Ms Imelda Jones. _Once the door was unlocked, he dropped the letters on his little art table and began to work on one of his colouring books.

After dinner and a bath, Christine went to put Antonio to bed. One of her favourite shows was about to start and she hoped to get her son to sleep before it started. She also hoped she would be able to stay awake long enough to see the end of it!

The little boy just clung to her arms and looked up at him with teary eyes. "I stay with you?" he asked hopefully.

Christine looked uncertainly at him for a moment before she gave a quick nod. She pulled him on her lap and draped a blanket around his shoulders. "You need to go to sleep. If you don't, I'll put you in your own bed."

Antonio nodded against Christine's shoulders, wrapped his hand in the fabric of Christine's top and closed his eyes, quickly drifting off to sleep.

* * *

Erik missed Christine and Antonio so much that it hurt. He missed his family so badly that he couldn't concentrate. All he could think about was Christine and Antonio. He could actually feel himself getting sick. He was working just as hard as he would back in Paris and yet, in Paris, with his family now there to support him, he hadn't been this sick.

Erik wandered through the theatre with the real estate agent. There were a few changes he wanted to make, however these would all be minor since the building was in almost perfect condition and over one hundred years old.

He knew that he would buy it, regardless of what Christine said, but he found himself wishing that she were there with him to admire the building and its potential. Antonio's reaction and the images his active imagination would make would be the perfect accompaniment to his trip.

Back in his hotel room, Erik sighed at the silence and emptiness. He immediately reached for the phone to call Christine and Antonio. He almost cried when he heard her sweet voice. They spoke about everything and nothing for a while until Antonio snatched the phone from Christine's hands.

"What was that all about?" Erik asked, a smile evident in his voice as Antonio returned the phone to Christine after an interesting five-minute conversation.

Christine laughed. "I have no idea. Something about an aria and a bulldozer." She laughed again.

Hearing the sound of Christine's laugh and voice and Antonio's chatter soothed Erik.

"I miss you," she confessed softly. "I can't wait until you come home."

* * *

Christine woke the next morning on the edge of her bed after only an hour's sleep. She rolled over to see Antonio asleep in the middle of the bed, his lips tipped up in a peaceful smile. Defeated, she climbed from the bed, tucked the blankets back around his chin and picked up her laptop, which she had placed on the floor after she had finished working on her book.

Pulling on her robe, Christine went to the kitchen, poured a cup of tea and set about preparing Antonio's lunch. By the time Antonio woke, Christine was just finishing her own breakfast. She gave her son a smile and made him a cup of hot chocolate, determined to keep his morning routine as normal as possible.

"Is it a preschool day?" he asked after he took a gulp of his chocolate.

"Yes, bubby. It's a preschool day. Guess what I put in your lunchbox," Christine continued when she saw the way his face fell when he realised he would have to go to school.

"What?"

"The last cupcake from our picnic a few days ago! You can have it for lunch."

Antonio shrugged disinterestedly. A cupcake was not enough to ease the fact that he had to go to preschool. Carrying his cup of hot chocolate, Antonio wandered to the lounge and turned on the TV to watch the morning cartoons.

Christine sighed and went to get dressed, determined to be ready to leave on time so that Antonio was not late for school.


	16. Chapter 16

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 16**

Pushing open the doors to the quiet apartment, Erik was disappointed to learn that Christine wasn't typing at the desk, as she normally would have been. Antonio was obviously at preschool and Christine was out – probably shopping or having coffee with Phoebe. So much for arriving home unannounced to surprise her.

He wandered forlorn into the bedroom and smiled to himself as he dropped his bag just in the doorway. Christine was asleep on the bed; her glasses still perched on her nose and her laptop open.

Wanting to kiss her awake, but thinking better of it, Erik carefully pulled off her glasses and lay down next to her, pulling her into his arms.

"Erik? You aren't supposed to be back until tomorrow," she said sleepily, opening her eyes as she wrapped her arms around his chest.

He smiled as he kissed her crown of her head. "That isn't the greeting I was expecting. Haven't you missed me?"

"You know I have," she whispered drowsily as she turned to kiss him, her eyes drifting shut again.

"I've missed you and Antonio so much that I couldn't think." Erik paused as he kissed Christine. "Where is he?"

"He's at preschool," she responded in a tone that stated that the answer was obvious. "He will be overjoyed to see you; he's missed you."

"And you've been sleeping with your computer?" Erik asked with a smile.

Christine laughed and shook her head. "Antonio slept with me. Last night I worked through the night, working on my next book. I obviously fell asleep while working on it after dropping Antonio off at preschool."

"And do you intend to sleep with Antonio again tonight?"

"No." She kissed him passionately, pushing off his coat even as he began to unbutton her cardigan. "You won't have to share your bed with anyone but me tonight."

* * *

Christine tucked Antonio into his bed after dinner and turned to find Erik standing in the doorway. She was silently pleased that he was taking such an active role in his new relationship with his son. As she passed him, Christine ran her hand down his chest. She retreated to her bedroom and began to turn down her bed, Erik following her.

"What is this?" Erik asked, holding up an unopened letter addressed to Imelda Jones that he had pulled from the pocket of his trousers. When they returned from picking Antonio up from preschool, Erik had pulled the mail from the letterbox and slid the small stack into his pocket.

With the evidence in front of him, he was convinced that Christine was Imelda Jones, one of his favourite authors. The thought had never crossed his mind, but now it seemed to all make sense. Her intimate knowledge of the city, her range of books on writing fiction and her passionate defence of the author all added together to paint the image that Erik had not known about.

"Don't go snooping, Erik," she snapped, trying to grab the envelope. "It's none of your business."

Erik grasped her upper arms, refusing to let go of her even as she slapped his shoulders, trying to get him to release her. Never before had she felt so vulnerable with Erik looming over a whole foot taller than her. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"It's none of your business, Erik," she repeated, trying to step away from him.

"That is where you're wrong. If it concerns you or Antonio, Christine, it is my business!" he shouted. "At one time I was your lover who you trusted with your every thought! Now I am nothing but a stranger! You kept my son from me and now you have kept this from me! I'm tired of your secrets!" Erik continued to rage, looming over Christine even further. "What else do I need to know?"

Arching away from him, Christine found herself vulnerable on the floor with Erik standing over her. Somehow, as she tried to escape him, she had slid down, between his legs. "You know all my secrets, Erik! What about _your_ secrets?" she snapped, referring to his mask.

Erik glared at her, doing his best not to lose his temper any further.

"Yes, I'm Imelda," she confessed softly. She saw the shock on his face and took perverse delight in his reaction. "I am Imelda Jones! _I am Imelda Jones!_"

"Oh, God. I should've known. Who else would know Venice so intimately and talk about all the little places I took you to?" Erik collapsed on top of her, keeping his weight on his elbows. He stroked her face with a shaking hand, all fight leaving him weak. "Only someone who has loved in Venice could write as you do, Christine. Open it."

Reluctantly, Christine opened the letter Erik held out to her, feeling bereft when he finally moved off her and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands shook.

"They want me to go to a book launch. They say because it has been such a long time between my books they would like to make an event of it. They're suggesting they hire a function room and hold a dinner…Carnivale themed. _In London!_"

"That sounds like it would be a pleasant evening," Erik commented softly, cautiously since he was unable to gauge her reaction.

"Yes, it would. But, there's a reason I write under a penname, Erik; I like my privacy. I don't want Antonio growing up unable to have a normal life because his mother is a famous writer. I don't want to be unable to go down the street because I'm besieged by fans."

"But if it's a masked event, no one would recognise you out on the streets; especially if you wear a full mask. And of course no one will know your real name."

"But what will I say to them all, Erik? I really haven't had any decent, in depth conversations with adults in years."

"You will talk about your books of course. You don't have to talk about anything but what you're comfortable with."

"Will you come too?" she asked, kneeling in front of him and placing her hands on his knees as she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

He nodded and pulled her into a sitting position beside him on the edge of the bed. Erik looked at Christine, disappointment darkening his midnight blue eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Christine shrugged, not sure she had the answer he was after. "I guess I forgot."

"You forgot?" Erik repeated in disbelief. "How many times have we spoken about Imelda? You could have confessed anytime."

Hanging her head guilty. "I was scared. I wasn't sure how you'd react."

"Did you really think I would be anything but proud of you? I'm so pleased that you have such a successful book." Erik pulled her into his arms and rested his chin on the crown of her head. "I wish you told me earlier that you're Imelda," he said softly against her head. "You've kept far too many secrets from me, Christine."

Turning around in his arms, Christine looked up at Erik, her expression guilty. "I'm sorry. I know I should have called you when I found out I was pregnant. I should have given you the chance to be a part of Antonio's life sooner. I should have told you that I was Imelda. No one but my editor and publishers know the truth about me."

Erik tightened his grip around her waist. "Are you out of secrets?" He looked down at her.

She smiled softly. "I can't think of anything else."

"Good. I don't want anything else between us."

Christine looked at his mask, but said nothing.

* * *

Several months later, Erik sat on the bed watching Christine pack her suitcase for the trip to London. He watched as she picked out a huge range of clothes – that he suspected she would not have a chance to wear in London. She threw another pair of shoes at her suitcase.

"You didn't have to put your casting on hold for me, Erik," Christine said as she stopped her packing and sat down beside Erik on the bed. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"It's only a week," he said softly as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her against his side. "Besides, I want to be with you in London." He kissed her temple before continuing, "You know if I'd heard about the event, I probably would have gone."

Christine smiled and wrapped her other arm around Erik's waist. "Aren't you lucky that you're dating the author! You'll be sitting with me," she said, turning serious.

Erik only nodded his head. Like Christine he was thankful that they would be able to sit together throughout the event, each offering the other his or her support. He was not sure how either would manage being in a crowd of complete strangers. Although Christine had not said anything, intuitively he knew she was nervous about talking to a group of people who were all there to see her.

"I'll be right there by your side," he promised.

Relieved that she had Erik's unwavering support, Christine returned to her task of packing her clothes.

"Have you packed Antonio's bag?" Erik asked after a minute of silence.

Christine shook her head and then realised that he probably had not seen her. "I've washed the clothes I was going to pack; they're in the laundry. Bring them in here and I'll put them in my suitcase"

Erik nodded and a minute later, he returned with a large pile of Antonio's clothes. He returned to the spot on the bed and began to fold the tiny clothes. His task done, Erik watched as Christine continued throwing clothes towards her suitcase.

Christine turned around to see Erik staring at her in amazement. She crossed to the bed to fold a cocktail dress. "Is something the matter?" she asked, going back to the wardrobe.

He was about to comment on not needing so many clothes when he saw her go to her underwear drawer and pull out a new set of floral negligee. He shook his head mutely.

Frowning in confusion, Christine followed Erik's gaze and smiled. "Do you remember buying underwear in Venice?" she asked, dangling the underwear in front of Erik's nose as she straddled his lap.

He nodded jerkily and snatched it from her hands. Kissing him, Christine began to unbutton Erik's shirt as he did the same to her.

Pulling back from the kiss, Erik looked at the underwear that had been hidden by her top, his hands spanning her waist. "Isn't that the one I bought you in Venice?"

She smiled, pleased that he remembered after so much time.

He kissed along her neck as he reached behind her to undo her bra. "And if I remember correctly, you didn't wear it long once I saw it in Venice either."

Christine laughed and pushed him back onto the bed before shedding her bra.

* * *

Christine stepped out of one of the bedrooms in the two-bedroom apartment she had booked in London to find Erik and Antonio playing in the main room while Jane, the nanny Christine had nervously hired for the night, looked on. She watched them for a few seconds, delighting in the way that the two interacted. Erik and Antonio were working on a puzzle with Erik laughing as he tried to put a piece in the wrong spot.

She closed the door softly behind her.

Erik saw her the moment she stepped into the hallway and forgot what he was saying to Antonio. The piece of the puzzle fell from his limp fingers. He stared at her, absorbed by her beauty. She was wearing an emerald cocktail dress, vintage diamond chandelier earrings and the green and silver mask that Erik had given her in Venice. Entranced by her once again, he stood up and gently held her upper arms. He placed a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips before leading her into the main room.

"Mummy!" Antonio shouted when he saw her, jumping up from the floor and running to Christine.

Erik scooped him up into his arms before he could ruin Christine's dress. "Doesn't she look beautiful?" he asked, looking at Christine rather than his son.

Christine smiled and touched Erik's cheek before placing a kiss on Antonio's. "We have to go now, bubby. Jane will look after you tonight until Daddy and I get home."

Erik handed Antonio to Jane and then quickly pushed Christine out before their son could stop her. Out in the hallway, Erik, unable to control himself, pressed her against the door and kissed her passionately. He ripped the mask from her face and threw it over his shoulder as he cupped her cheeks in his hands. Christine clung to the lapels of his coat, afraid she would drown if she let go of him. Her fingers worked to undo his tie and then the top buttons of his dress shirt.

When she pulled away from him, gasping for air and dropped a kiss on his throat, he took a step away from her. Releasing a shuddering breath, Erik's shaking fingers fixed his shirt and tie. He looked uncertainly at Christine and then decided to say nothing.

* * *

Christine tightened her grip on Erik's hand as she looked at the Venetian themed private function room. It was just like stepping into a _palazzo _in Venice. At one end of the room, a backdrop with the canals and gondolas began the theme. Scattered around the edge of the room were urns, columns and statues. At the centre of every burgundy tablecloth covered table was a guilt candelabra, which provided the room with soft, romantic lighting.

She shared a speaking glance with Erik. They both felt as if they had stepped back in time to a place where they were young and in love.

Nervously standing in front of the microphone, Christine looked at the thirty or so tables full of her fans, all staring eagerly at her. She knew they were waiting for her to say something but her mind was blank. What did one say to almost one-hundred strangers?

"Thank you, all for coming," she said on a squeak. She glanced at Erik, wanting to run back to the table she was sharing with him, the coordinators and the editors and hide behind his broad back. When she saw Erik's reassuring nod and soft smile, and the pride radiating from him, she grew in confidence and began to address the guests.

After her brief speech, Christine wandered around the tables, chatting to all of the guests, careful to always have Erik in her sight to help keep her calm. If she did not have the mask – or Erik watching protectively over her from a distance – she did not think she would be able to do it. Determined to get around to all the guests at least once, Christine had to leave most of her three-course meal untouched.

"Have you ever lived in Venice, Imelda?"

Christine looked at the woman in confusion. She had been called Imelda for the past two hours and still she could not get used to responding to the name. "I took a two month holiday there a few years ago," Christine said, looking up from the book she was signing with a metallic silver pen. She ran her fingers over the embossed cover, proud that she was now successful enough to have that honour.

"How did you find all the quaint places that all your characters have visited in your books?"

"I met someone there who had been to Venice several times before. He showed me all of the intimate and out-of-the-way places." A smile softened Christine's face and her eyes took on a faraway look as she recalled the time she spent with Erik.

"_He_?" one of the men at the table asked Christine, clearly after more information about her marital status. He glanced at her left hand, noting happily that it was unadorned.

"I took great pleasure in showing her the sights," Erik said, his voice as hard as granite as he placed a possessive hand on the small of Christine's back. He looked down at Christine from his great height, anger darkening his eyes.

Christine smiled nervously at Erik and wracked her brain for something to say to diffuse the situation. The last thing she wanted was for Erik to lose his temper at a function. She tilted her head back so that she could look into Erik's eyes.

"I still remember everything you showed me," she whispered for Erik's ears only and gave him a brilliant smile.

"I know." Erik smiled despite himself. "The editors have asked that you sit at the book table for autographs and photos," he said softly in her ear, reminding himself why he was there. "I thought you needed to be saved."

Christine smiled gratefully at Erik and left the table.

* * *

"You won't mind if Chr-Imelda and I stay here for a few more minutes, will you?" Erik asked the coordinators with a charming smile. "I thought it would be nice for 'Melda to take in the evening without all of her adoring fans."

The coordinators and editors looked between Erik and Christine before giving a quick nod. "The staff will need to get in and tidy the room. As long as you don't mind them bustling around you, I don't think there'll be a problem. We will ask, however, that you make sure you leave by eleven."

Erik nodded and stood back as Christine spoke to her editor. Alone in the function room, Erik led Christine to a deserted corner that was shielded by columns and a life size statue of a woman. He pulled her into his arms and took pleasure in holding her against his body. He forgot how good she felt to hold and how right she felt being in his arms. Five years was too long to live without her.

"I never imagined that so many people would be here. They came here to see _me_," she said in delight as she tucked her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I almost feel as if we're in Venice again, Erik."

"Close your eyes and believe we are," he whispered seductively in her ear, bending down to kiss her ear. They stood silently in each other's arms for a few minutes. "Do you know what attracted me to you when I first saw you all those years ago?" When Christine shook her head, Erik continued, "The simplicity of your mask." He traced the lines of her mask with the tip of his finger. "You did not hide behind feathers or use them to enhance what I could see was already beautiful."

Christine sighed and, standing on her toes, she gripped Erik's shoulders, pulling him down to her so that she could kiss him.

"You were so gentle with me," she confessed softly, her lips grazing his as she spoke. "I remember looking up at you while we danced and thinking how protected you made me feel. The height difference between us didn't frighten me. I have never felt that way before."

Erik muttered something unintelligible against Christine's throat as he bent lower to kiss her neck.

"I want to be back in Venice, Erik. I want to feel the way we did then before that morning. Please don't hate me for keeping your son from you or for what I did to you in the shower."

"I don't hate you, Christine; I hate myself."

Christine pulled away from Erik, surprised by his comment. She took a few steps from him, needing the distance to fully understand what he was saying. She had never been able to think clearly when she was in his arms.

"I hate the way I reacted when you told me to take off my mask. I hate that I lost my temper and scared you so badly that you ran out of my life. Most of all, I hate that I let you go; that I was too caught up in my own pain to think about yours."

"It was my fault, Erik. If I-"

"No more, Christine; it's in the past." He followed her to the seat she had taken at the next table and cupped her cheek. "All I want is to try again and make a life with you and our son."

Tears sprang to Christine's eyes, causing her to pull her mask from her face to wipe them away. Turning her head, she pressed a kiss to the centre of Erik's palm. "That's all I want, Erik. That has been my dream for the last five years."

Erik smiled and dropped to his knees to kiss her.


	17. Chapter 17

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 17**

"Thank you for coming with us," Christine said shyly to Erik as she finished lunch in one of the department stores on Oxford Street with her two boys. "It was lovely of Daddy to have lunch with us, wasn't it, bubby?"

Antonio nodded and then smiled when Erik stepped forward and pressed a light kiss on Christine's lips. Blushing bright red, Christine smiled and petted him awkwardly on his upper arm.

"Are you coming back with me, or are you going to keep shopping?" he asked Christine.

Once again, Erik was amazed at what he would endure for his family. Never in a million years did he imagine that he would have enjoyed a lunch with Christine and Antonio in a busy London department store. The stares he received from strangers did not matter. Thanks to their love and his desire to be with them, his mask was an afterthought.

"Antonio and I have a few more things we need to pick up before we head back to the hotel."

Erik nodded knowingly and left Christine and Antonio. He had only been away from Christine for ten minutes and already he was wondering if he should just join her so that he could spend more time with his new family when his phone rang. He stopped in the middle of Oxford Street and stared at the passing taxis and buses.

"Erik," Christine's panicked voice said on the other end. "I can't find Antonio! We were in the clothes department and I turned my back for a few seconds and now he's gone! I'm still in Debenhams."

Erik's hands shook as he clutched the phone so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His son was missing! "I'll look for him and call you when I find him." He turned in the direction he had just come from and bolted for the store.

Disconnecting from the call, Erik rushed to the first place he could think of: the toys. It took too long for Erik's liking to find the section, but when he did, he immediately found his son, looking at action figures with great interest. Those few short minutes felt like an eternity as he searched for his son. He hadn't known him for long, but he felt a connection to his boy that he felt he would die if he lost him.

"Daddy, I can't find Mummy," Antonio whined when he saw Erik.

"Antonio, come here," he said in a harsh tone as he pulled his son to him. He called Christine to let her know where they were. "What do you think you were doing running away from Mummy? You need to stay with her so she knows that you are safe. You cannot do that again."

It was Erik's first attempt at serious discipline and he found the new role of angry father oddly appealing.

"I was hiding," he explained with a pout, playing with the toys around him.

"You cannot hide from Mummy!"

"Antonio!" Christine cried with relief when she saw that he was safe with Erik. She grabbed her son's hand and pulled him away from other shoppers and Erik.

"What do you think you were doing? I was very worried about you. We were just lucky Daddy was here to help me look for you. You are to stay with me whenever we are out."

"But I was near," Antonio protested. "I was playing hide and seek."

"You do not run and hide from me!" Christine snapped, becoming hysterical. "Give me your hands."

Reluctantly Antonio held out his hands and then began to sob when Christine gave them both a quick smack. Erik stepped forward when he heard the slap and fixed Christine with a frown. He knew all too well the damage a smack could do to a child; no way would he allow _his _child to be beaten.

"Some mean person might have taken you," she whispered, refusing to soften at the sight of her son's tears.

"No one taked me, Mummy," he tried to reassure her through his own tears.

"Someone might have and then I would never have seen you again. Then Mummy and Daddy would have been very, _very _sad if someone mean took you." She took a deep, calming breath, wiped at her own tears and then stood up. "You are going to hold my hand until we get home!"

Erik opened his mouth to chastise Christine's reaction when she held up a finger to him. "Do not say anything, Erik. I nearly lost him; I could have lost him forever."

Seeing the tears pool in her eyes again, Erik gathered Christine into his arms. "I would never allow anything to happen to him, Christine. I've only just found him and I have no intention of losing him so soon."

* * *

It was only half an hour after sunrise when Erik and Christine both felt Antonio climb out of bed. Christine sighed as she threw back the covers, prepared to get up and face the day, which, thanks to her son was starting far earlier than she would have liked.

"You stay in bed; I'll get Antonio breakfast," Erik whispered in Christine's ear and then kissed her. He felt her smile against his lips and then tucked the blankets around her chin as he had seen her do with their son numerous times.

An hour later, Christine was awakened to Erik screaming. Jumping from her bed, she rushed into the living room and stopped when she saw a broken cup and a stain spreading across the carpet where Erik had apparently thrown a cup against a wall. The newspaper he had been reading was strewn over the floor. Her heart clenched when she saw her son cowering in the corner, his little arms covering his head as his body racked with sobs. Her little boy was terrified. Looking furious, Erik covered half his face with his hand as he continued to shout at Antonio.

"Stop it!" Christine shouted as she stepped into the room. Her body began to shake with anger. How could be reacting like this towards his son? "Erik, stop it!"

Erik looked at Christine and Antonio, feeling stripped of every piece of clothing; not just his mask. It felt as if he had been skinned, leaving his muscles – his very flesh – exposed for the entire world to see. It had been years since anyone had seen his deformed face that, for his son to be the one to unmask him when he least expected it, was beyond words. It was far worse than the time Christine had ordered him to remove his mask.

He thought he had been betrayed then, but now he knew he had reacted excessively. He blamed it on the passionate, almost insane, love he had felt towards Christine in Venice. _This,_ when his own child pulled his mask off, was the great betrayal. If he thought that Christine ordering him to take off his mask had been a betrayal, he had been sadly mistaken.

He was exposed to the world and could no longer pretend to be something he was not. He was precisely what he appeared to be: a monster with the pretence of a man.

Christine looked at Erik, saw that his mask was missing and then ran to Antonio and scooped him up into her arms. She crooned to him and rubbed his back as his sobbing eased.

"You comfort him yet he is the one who has done this!" Erik shouted, his face contorted with rage. The dislike he saw shining in Christine's eyes stoked his fury. He picked up Antonio's cup and threw it across the room, sending chocolate and china across the room. "What did he expect to see? Why did he never think that my mask was hiding something?" Erik was still raging as he paced the room, upending the chairs as he went. "Why did _you_ never think that I was hiding something?"

"He is just a child, Erik!" she shouted at him, pressing Antonio's head into her shoulder. "He doesn't understand what he's done." She took the mask from Antonio's hand and threw it towards Erik.

Last time something like this had occurred, Christine had been the one cowering. She had been so frightened by his temper that she had thought only of her safety and that was to flee Venice and Erik's company. But with her son receiving the brunt of Erik's fury, there was no way she would allow Erik's temper to go unchallenged. She would never allow anyone – even his father – to hurt him.

"How can he not understand what he's done?" Erik shouted at Christine's back as she took Antonio to her bedroom and tucked him into the big bed, promising she'd be back soon.

Erik watched Christine leave, becoming more infuriated when she refused to immediately respond. When she returned, Erik was pulling on his mask, his face still red. He was surprised to her own face was dark with anger. He had never seen her looking so fierce.

"All Antonio knows is that you suddenly flew into a rage when he took off your mask! He has no idea why. Maybe if you weren't so self-conscious about your face," she began, her anger dulling her compassion, "Then we wouldn't be screaming at each other while my son cries himself sick!"

"How dare that demon remove my mask!" His rage continued to mount at Christine's unfeeling comment.

"How dare he? _How dare he?_" she demanded furiously, stomping up to him and glaring up at him from her petite height. "That is our son you're talking about!" She jabbed him violently in the chest with her finger.

"If you had raised your son to respect-"

"Maybe if you could control your temper and hadn't terrified me years ago, you would have had more input in the way your son was raised, Erik," she snapped angrily, refusing to be cowered.

Erik was rendered speechless at Christine's announcement. He had always thought that Christine had made the conscious decision to exclude him from Antonio's life. He still had trouble believing that he had been the one to push her away. It was because of him that he never met his son until recently.

"He was curious, Erik! I would have thought you wanted your son to take an interest in the world around him," she said, despairingly, her anger slowly fading, worried that she had raised their son the wrong way. She looked at Erik's face and noticed with a sigh of relief that his rage was finally beginning to subside. "I did what I thought you would want for your son."

She had spent nine months wondering how to raise Erik's child. In the end she had decided to raise him so that he would be an image of his father: intelligent, bilingual, artistic and curious. Perhaps she had been mistaken. Maybe she was so determined to make Antonio into a replica of his father that she failed to consider that perhaps that was not what Erik wanted.

"I am the one who has just been stripped bare of everything, forced to show my hideous face to a child and the woman I love and yet you go to Antonio before you go to me," he muttered, defeated. "Your son is as bloody inquisitive as you are, Christine." He sighed, exhausted.

"Antonio is a child," Christine repeated sharply. Even when they had first started dating, everything they did had been done with great passion. They made love passionately and argued passionately. "He has no idea that what he has done is wrong. All he knows is that you're furious with him for being curious which is something that I thought you would have encouraged in your son. It is something _I _encouraged."

"How else am I supposed to react when my son pulls my mask off? He will think me a monster! What boy wants a monster for a father?" Erik demanded defensively.

"You weren't a monster until you started to abuse Antonio. You need to learn to control your temper. You can't react like that simply because Antonio or I do something you don't like," Christine informed him as she bravely reached out to touch Erik's arm. "Our son will not think of you that way if we encourage him not to. He will only see his father; the same way I see you. Your face doesn't make you who you are, Erik."

Erik's temper deflated even further and he sank down onto the couch. He buried his face in his hands and valiantly held back tears.

"You need to fix this with Antonio quickly. I want you to show him under your mask without fear, Erik. He needs to understand."

He shook his head vehemently. "I don't know if I can. No, I can't. _I can't_."

"I'll be here, beside you." She sat down beside him and caressed the back of his head. "I want you to show our son who you really are. He needs to know you aren't angry at him and that you aren't ashamed or afraid of what you are."

Seeing that is was a losing battle – as anything concerning Antonio was – Erik nodded weakly and watched with great trepidation as Christine went to collect their son.

"Bubby, listen," Christine began as she sat down on the bed beside Antonio, "Daddy's not really angry at you; he was just surprised. He knows you're just a very curious little boy. But you need to ask before you take anything. You know you need to remember your manners. If you want to see what is under his mask, you need to ask him," she said softly as she stood and pulled Antonio into her arms. "Just as you wouldn't go looking through ladies' purses, you wouldn't take Daddy's mask off without asking.

"Now, Daddy wants to say sorry to you for making you cry. Will you come outside with me?"

Antonio sniffed sadly and gave a weak nod before burying his face into Christine's shoulder when he saw Erik still sitting in the living area. She sat beside Erik, keeping Antonio on her lap as she looked pointedly at him, silently begging him to take the first step to mend his relationship with his son. He saw the way Antonio clung tightly to Christine, terrified of getting too close to his father and felt his heart clench.

"I'm sorry for making you cry, Antonio," he said softly, struggling to find the words. "You surprised me when you took off my mask. I don't like my face – I think it's hideous – and that's why I hide it. I didn't want you to see my ugly face. I was scared that you would be afraid of me or think that I'm ugly."

Erik felt a moment of relief when he saw Antonio look up from Christine's shoulder and gazed at him, fascination shining in his eyes.

"Would you like to see under my mask? I promise I won't be angry; I won't be angry again, I promise," he said in English, offering the boy the comfort of his first language. He held out his hand to Antonio and was wounded when his son did not accept his hand. Unsure what to do, Erik looked at Christine.

At Christine's pointed look, Erik removed the leather mask and gave it to Antonio to feel. Uncomfortable, he turned his face away from Christine and Antonio. Clearly unconcerned by what he saw, Antonio slowly moved from Christine's lap to Erik's and began to touch his face. When Erik would have flinched or pushed Antonio away, Christine grabbed his hands and forced him to look in her eyes. In her eyes, he saw her pride, love and, most surprisingly, no fear.

For the first time, Christine was able to look calmly at Erik's face. She could understand why he was afraid to show it; afraid of what people would think. But it really was not as bad as he thought. It made no difference to her what he looked like. All that mattered to her was that he was the man she loved.

"You've seen Daddy with a mask and without a mask," Christine said softly to Antonio even as he still touched Erik's face. "Which one is Daddy?"

"They're both Daddy," he replied as if Christine didn't know what she was talking about. "I like Daddy with no mask."

Christine smiled and raised her hand to touch Erik's face at the same time as Antonio. She was pleased that he did not flinch when she touched him. In fact, she was certain that the tension was slowly beginning to seep from his body as he became accustomed to having another person stare at, and touch his face. "So do I. I don't think Daddy should wear his mask when he's with us. Do you agree?"

Antonio nodded emphatically, sending his dark hair whipping around his face.

Erik looked at his family in surprise before his own face lit into a smile. He had kept this from them – from everyone – for so long that he had never thought that perhaps his face would not concern them. Maybe only the people who loved him were able to see past the horror of his face.

Erik looked at her in surprise, wondering why her simple comment did not disturb him. Ordinarily, if anyone else had said that he should not wear his mask, he would have screamed and told him or her to mind their own business. In fact, he had already done that to Christine! He would normally then spend the next day or so analysing his insecurity and why someone had upset him so much. But Christine's request did not concern him.

Perhaps it was because he felt safe, secure with her. He had known her long enough to know that she would be able to look past the scars that had ruined the right side of his face. They had such a wonderful love that he trusted her with his secret.

"Go back to your room and get changed, bubby so that Daddy and I can talk again," Christine instructed as she kissed Antonio.

"You won't shout?" he asked, seriously, before he slipped off Erik's lap.

Erik and Christine looked at their son in surprise.

"We won't shout," Erik promised softly as he gave Antonio a quick hug.

* * *

Later that night, Christine turned to Erik and held his face in both of her hands, secretly delighted that he had – of his own volition – decided to remove his mask. She shifted so that she was straddling his lap and kissed him lightly. "Do you think that I would love you less because I saw what you didn't want me to see? The man I fell in love with in Venice was the gentleman. I didn't know what was under that mask and I didn't care! I still don't care now that I know." She touched the now uncovered side of his face.

Erik did not look entirely convinced.

"I can understand why you're so sensitive about your face. I have that scar from a burst ulcer on my leg," she said, pointing to the top of her left thigh. "I tried to avoid letting you see it because it's so terrible. I realised that was a losing battle and allowed you to see it and touch it. I tried to pretend that it didn't bother me."

Erik felt buoyed at her matching comment. He felt so comforted to know that his beautiful Christine had a scar that disturbed her as much as his own. He remembered the way she tried to shield the left side of her body from his gaze or his hands. In the end, however, she accepted that she was unable to keep it from him – and that it did not disturb him – and stopped trying to hide it from him.

"I didn't know you were so uncomfortable about that scar," he said. Unable to help himself, Erik reached out and touched the place Christine had indicated. "I don't notice it, Christine; it's just another part of you that has made you who you are today."

"That's exactly how I feel about your mask, Erik." Christine smiled in the darkness, relieved that Erik could perhaps accept that his soul contained his beauty, and snuggled deeper into his side. She kissed his jaw. "I'm glad that you patched things up with Antonio. I would have hated to see you two fighting. He needs you. But you have to do something about your anger. I don't want you to lose your temper one day and hurt Antonio. I don't think I'd be able to forgive you."

"I wouldn't forgive myself if I hurt either of you," Erik said softly, realising what was at stake if he couldn't control his temper. He had over-reacted and, if it weren't for Christine, he could have ruined the new relationship he was developing with his son and lost the woman he loved. He probably would have walked out of his son's - and Christine's - life. He would have to do something about his anger before anything else could happen. "If you hadn't have been there, Christine, I don't know what I would have done. I don't react well when people unmask me."

"Just remember that Antonio did it only because he was curious, Erik. He wasn't doing it to be spiteful or to make fun of you. We meant what we said; we like seeing you without your mask," she said earnestly as she leant on her elbow and looked at Erik in the dark.

"You really mean that?"

Christine laughed and kissed his cheek. "Antonio is a child. You can always rely on children to tell the truth! Seriously consider our request that you don't wear your mask while you're with us."

"I will," Erik promised as he pulled her back into his arms, kissed her and closed his eyes to go to sleep.

* * *

If Christine had any doubts about Erik and Antonio's relationship, the flight back to Paris the next day saw the end of them. During the short trip across the Channel, Erik amused Antonio and kept him quiet. The moment the seatbelt sign had been turned off, Antonio climbed on to Erik's lap and chatted and played happily with his father. Erik was so prepared and determined that Christine enjoy the flight that when Antonio, along with the other children on the flight, began to cry as the plane descended, he whipped out a bag of lollies as an effective way to deal with the change in cabin pressure.

Back in Paris, Erik put Antonio down for a nap. Normally, one of the first things Christine would have done after returning from a holiday was to unpack the bags and put on the washing machine. But with Antonio asleep and Erik now boiling the kettle, Christine decided that the washing could wait; it was not going anywhere. So with a hot drink each, Christine and Erik sat down on the lounge.

"Did you enjoy going back to London?" Erik asked as he draped his arm around Christine's shoulders and took a long sip of his coffee.

Christine shrugged and snuggled into his side. "It was strange to go back there after all this time. It reminded me a little of the time I moved back into my parents' house after living on my own for a few months." She tipped her head back on his shoulder and kissed the underside of his jaw. "Apart from that, I think everything worked out for the best. I'm glad that there aren't any more secrets between us."

Erik remained silent as he contemplated her words, remembering that Christine had asked him to consider taking off his mask when he was with Christine and Antonio. He had had a day to adjust to the idea that Christine and Antonio did not find him as repulsive as he had always believed himself to be. But still he could not believe it. He wanted to believe her but was finding it difficult to forget the habits of a lifetime.

"I just wish Antonio hadn't ripped my mask off," Erik said with a sigh.

He was now embarrassed at the way he had reacted when his son had pulled his mask from his face. He had overreacted. He had terrified his son. He was used to having his mask removed out of perverse interest and not boyish curiosity.

"I know. But I also know how reluctant you were to show us beneath your mask. Clearly you just needed some help." She gave him a nervous laugh, not sure if he saw things her way.

Erik smiled and kissed Christine's forehead and finished his coffee in silence. With his coffee finished, he wrapped his now free hand around her waist and held her tightly until Antonio woke up from his nap.

Hours later, Christine returned from bathing Antonio to find Erik in the kitchen preparing dinner. She stopped short when she saw him standing over the stove without his mask. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and covered his cheeks in kisses.

Finally Erik knew that he could trust Antonio and Christine and would not have to always wear mask. He could trust them not to turn on him and see him for the amazing man he was beneath his twisted face. With his family, Erik could be himself.


	18. Chapter 18

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 18**

Emerging from the bathroom of her Paris apartment, tying her hair up with a ribbon, Christine stopped at the sight in front of her. A soft smile curved the corners of her lips. Antonio sat beside Erik on the couch, watching cartoons while Erik divided his attention between the newspaper, the TV and his son. Both had a coffee cup cradled in their hands. Both were wearing matching blue striped pyjamas that made Christine smile in delight at how adorable they looked together. Her smile broadened even further when Antonio snuggled into Erik's side and took a sip of his hot drink. Ever since Erik had moved in with her, Antonio and Erik had developed their own morning routine, which involved cartoons and coffee while Christine had an uninterrupted shower. Anything that Erik did, Antonio had to do, too.

"Mummy!" Antonio screeched when he saw her, jumping to his feet and spilling his drink on the floor as he ran to her.

Erik looked up when he heard Christine's loud gasp and hoped that the fact that he had removed his mask to wear his glasses so that he could read hadn't disturbed her; Antonio certainly did not have a problem with him removing his mask. He reached for his mask, but at the last moment decided against replacing it.

Christine caught Antonio and kissed his head before giving Erik a playful frown. "Please tell me you gave him decaf, Erik. He does not need any more energy than he already has."

Erik grinned. "It's hot chocolate with a touch of my coffee to keep him happy," he said with a grin as he folded the paper and stood and pulled her into his arms, giving her a hard kiss. "Sit down and I'll get you a tea."

Christine smiled, but rather than following his instructions, she placed Antonio in front of the TV and followed Erik into the kitchen, wondering what she had done to deserve such a wonderful man.

"Why haven't I seen you wear your glasses?" Christine asked as she wrapped her arms around Erik's waist and tilted her head back admire his face and the way his glasses framed his dark blue eyes.

"I didn't want you to know. I can't wear my mask and glasses at the same time."

Christine looked so disappointed at being denied the privilege of seeing him in his glasses that Erik had to kiss away her pout. She ran the tip of her index finger along his brow and his cheekbones as if she were tracing the outline of his glasses. "I've told you so many times, Erik, that I like seeing you without your mask. I like seeing you in your glasses. There's no need for you to hide who you are while you're at home with Antonio and me."

Erik nodded and pulled Christine into his arms. "I know. It's hard to forget a lifetime's worth of fear of other's loathing in a few weeks. But I'm trying," he promised softly as he kissed her lightly on the forehead.

* * *

Christine glanced again at the calendar, counting the days. She bit her nails as she counted again. And again. It was not possible. Surely after last time, they would not be so careless to allow it to happen again! But, she thought with a sigh, contraception had not been high on their list of priorities five years ago, and it clearly was not now.

Forcing a smile when she noticed Erik looking expectantly at her, she reached for her bag and muttered, "I need to get something from the supermarket."

Erik looked at her concerned. Something had her worried and he had no idea what it was. He glanced over his shoulder at Antonio. The boy was happily drawing by the window and Erik was reluctant to disturb him.

"Did you want me to come?"

Christine shook her head, sending her curls bouncing. "Will you stay and look after Antonio?"

Erik's heart sang even as he was consumed with concern for Christine. She finally understood that she could trust him to look after his son. When he had taken Antonio Christmas shopping, Christine had reluctantly let them go. She insisted on also being in the department store…just in case. Now, she did not even give him a backward glance. He nodded and went to press a kiss on her forehead but was hurt when she quickly stepped away.

When he was left alone with Antonio, Erik knew a moment of panic. What did one do to keep a four-year-old amused? Recalling that his son was not like other four-year-olds, Erik decided to sit down with Antonio and give him a music lesson.

The little boy had a great time with his father, learning how to compose – and how Erik composed. After an intense lesson that only lasted thirty minutes, Erik, sensing Antonio's attention was wandering, left a note for Christine, and he and his son went to a nearby park.

At the park, Erik did his best to ignore the other parents and their curious looks at his mask, and play with his son, just as he had always imagined doing. He and Antonio took turns rolling down a hill and playing on the swings. Erik watched affectionately as his son ran around him in circles while singing the song that he had just taught him.

Certain that by his fifth lap that Antonio would be dizzy; Erik grabbed his arm, just in time to prevent him from falling. The two boys toppled to the ground, giggling and began to make up shapes from the clouds. Antonio rested his head on Erik's arm as he looked at the sky with bright green eyes, happily singing a song he had just made up.

This was how Christine found Erik and Antonio when she made her way to the park. Judging from the happiness that radiated from the child, Antonio clearly loved spending time alone with his father. She giggled as Antonio let out a squeal as Erik began to tickle him. Hopefully he would be as good a father to any other children they had; not just to Antonio. She smiled, feeling optimistic for the first time all day.

* * *

Christine closed the door to Antonio's bedroom and leant against the frame as she listened to Erik on the phone, getting an update from the director of the musical. He had been spending less time with his family and more time on the phone and rushing between Paris and Melun in the last few weeks. Christine was silently counting down the months until the musical would have its opening night. She sat down beside him on the couch and waited for him to finish his call, her eye drooping closed with tiredness.

"Corinne is being a prima donna," he said with a sigh before shaking his head in disgust. "She wants a pay rise."

Christine looked at him uncertainly, wanting to talk to him about the numerous tests she had taken the day before, but feeling unable. She gave him a weak smile and wrapped her arms around him. "Are you going to give in to her?"

Erik shook his head. "We can't afford to! Although ticket sales are far better than any of us anticipated, we have too many expenses."

"What would happen if you don't give her the rise?"

Erik loosened Christine's grip from around his shoulders and began to pace the room. He made several silent circuits of the room before he finally spoke. "If I don't give into her, she's threatening to leave."

Christine shrugged disinterestedly. "That can't be such a bad thing. You might be better off without her."

"No. If she goes, Laurent is also threatening to leave. We really can't afford – both financially and time-wise – to re-cast two new leads with six months until opening night."

"I don't know what to say to help, Erik," she said weakly.

"It's a difficult situation," Erik said with another sigh. "I'm going to have to go to Melun for a day or two to sort it out."

"Erik, before you go-"

Erik's mobile phone began to ring again. He shot her a helpless look and picked up.

Christine looked on with defeat before she went and shut herself away in the bathroom.

* * *

"I'll see you in a few days," Erik said with a sigh as he wrapped his arms around Christine's shoulders. His bag by the front door, he perched on the edge of her desk and settled Antonio on his lap.

She nodded vaguely, refusing to pull her attention away from the computer.

"What's wrong?" he asked when she did not look at him.

She shrugged a shoulder and continued to type away at her laptop.

"Chris, what's the matter? Why won't you look at me? Has something happened?"

"No. Nothing. I'm busy. No, nothing," she answered each of his questions in turn.

Frowning, Erik sent Antonio off to play before gently grasping Christine's chin and forcing her to look at him. "What the hell is going on? This isn't exactly the farewell I was expecting."

Christine glared at him, jerked her chin out of his grasp, closed the lid of the laptop with a snap and wandered off to the kitchen. "I've got to get Antonio ready for preschool. I'll see you in a few days."

Erik watched her go, wondering what was wrong. He hated when she was moody and refused to speak to him. He kissed the back of her head, grabbed his bag and left.

On the trip, Erik tried to figure out what was troubling her. Whatever it was had to be terrible since she didn't feel she could talk to him. Hopefully when he returned home she would not be quite so temperamental and would tell him what was going on.

* * *

In Melun, Erik sat in company meeting after company meeting. He watched numerous rehearsals, trying to decide if he should let Corrine and Laurent go. He did not think he would be able to find anyone as good – or better – than either him or her on such short notice.

In the end, he decided to let them stay and they would review the pay situation after the first month. With that decided, Erik, both eagerly and reluctantly returned to Paris.

* * *

With Erik gone, and her own concerns growing, Christine divided her time between Antonio and working on her latest novel. She was still having trouble believing that she was pregnant. One would think that after last time she and Erik would have learnt their lesson and taken care, but she could easily recall a number of times they had not spared a thought for contraception. After seeing the doctor, Christine vacillated between fury at Erik, uncertainty about how Antonio would react and concern for the future.

She worked herself to the point of exhaustion to avoid thinking too much about the doctor's news. Christine still struggled to figure out how to tell Erik the news; she was not sure how he would take the news that he would be a father. She never planned to be a mother again. She had a lot of adjusting to do with this unexpected baby. She had already had one unexpected surprise; she never expected to have a second. One good thing that came from Erik's absence was that she was able to have quite a few chapters of her book completed.

Erik returned after three days in Melun to find that Christine was still moody. He had expected the passionate homecoming he had received every other times that he had gone away on business, but was instead greeted with a cool, distant Christine. At least Antonio was excited to see him.

He immediately shut himself away in the spare bedroom and considered the changes he had made to the show. Three days away from each other had not improved Christine's mood, nor had Erik come up with any possible explanations for her behaviour.

The couple continued their silent treatment for the rest of the night, with Erik deciding to sleep in the spare room.

* * *

The day after his return, Erik and Antonio were sitting together on the couch, each with a coffee cup in his hands, when Christine emerged from the shower. Erik turned his head slightly, to hide the right side of his face, refusing to glance up from his paper. After his cool reception and sleeping alone last night, he was not sure what sort of mood she would be in.

"Morning, boys," she said with a slight smile.

Erik glanced up at her, not quite trusting her sudden shift in mood.

"I was thinking, Erik, maybe we could pick Antonio up at lunchtime and we could all have lunch out."

Erik nodded as he began to pull on his mask.

Realising that she would not get anywhere with Antonio in the room – and not wanting to argue in front of him – Christine turned to her son. "Bubby, go and get dressed for preschool, please."

Once Antonio was gone, Christine sat on the coffee table and looked at Erik who had returned his attention to his paper. She rolled her eyes in annoyance when she realised that with his mask in place he would not be able to easily read the print in front of him. Stubborn male!

"Please, don't ignore me, Erik."

"Then talk to me, Christine!"

"I would if I thought you'd listen," she responded tartly.

Erik shook his head. "I'm listening now. What is going on that you don't feel that you _can_ talk to me?"

"I'm amazed you realised something was wrong, considering how obsessed you've been about your stupid musical."

"You make your feelings very clear, Christine," Erik responded dryly. "I am not obsessed with my musical; you are obsessed with your novel! I can never get any sense from you when you're at your computer."

"We're not talking about my writing, Erik. We're talking about the way you've been ignoring me."

He raised his brows at that. "I have _not_ been ignoring you. _You_ have been refusing to talk to me." He paused, trying to calm his anger before he said something he could regret. "I'm listening now, Christine," he said softly.

"I'm pregnant," she blurted. Once again, her pregnancy had come as a surprise, but she was finally able to admit that she was looking forward to being a mother again. She hoped this time things would be different and she and Erik would be able to stay together and raise their second child.

But she had no idea how Erik would react. She hoped that he would be excited, but she was stealing herself for his anger. It had taken him a while to accept that he had been refused the right to be a part of Antonio's life. Christine worried that he would bring that back up.

"You're pregnant?" he asked, unable to keep the amazement from his voice. "_Pregnant!_" He looked down at her stomach and then impulsively placed his hand over it, hoping to feel the new life growing within her. After a moment he looked up from his hand and gazed into her eyes, smiling brightly.

Christine found herself smiling and covered his hand with her own. "I take it you're pleased."

"Very," he confessed softly, unable to hold back his grin. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed her head against his shoulder as he held her tightly.

For a moment, he could clearly see the image of their newborn child, another boy. The little boy looked exactly like his father with black hair and blue eyes…And a scarred face. He tried to tamp down his growing panic. He would not allow his fear to ruin this wonderful moment.

Christine tipped her head back to stare up at him, tears falling down her cheeks. Erik held her at arm's length and looked down at her in concern, trying to hide his panic. She was so happy that he easily forgot about his own concerns. "Why are you crying?"

"Mummy's crying?" Antonio gasped as he wandered out from his bedroom. "Why are you sad, Mummy?"

Christine smiled even as she sniffed back another bout of tears. Reluctantly, she stepped out of Erik's arms and held out her hand to Antonio. "I'm not sad, bubby," she said as she sat down on the lounge, pulling him on her lap. "I'm so happy that I can't help but cry."

Antonio frowned in confusion. "You cry when you're sad."

"Sometime people cry when they're happy," Erik said softly, his own eyes suspiciously bright. "I won't allow Mummy to be sad."

Christine shot Erik a thankful glance as she stood Antonio on his feet. "We need to get you ready for preschool. Let's go and get your breakfast."

Erik watched them walk into the kitchen, a smile on his face. He could not believe he was going to be a father again! Christine was having his baby. This time he would be able to take a part in the life of the child from the beginning of its life. He would not allow his fears to spoil the time he had been unable to experience when Christine was pregnant with Antonio.

"Make sure you don't leave without me!" Erik said softly as he wrapped his arms around Christine's stomach and kissed the back of her neck. "I want to go with you when you take Antonio to school."

"Will we go out for lunch?" Antonio asked, looking up at Erik, his green eyes bright with hope.

"Mummy and I have lots of shopping to do," Erik said as he looked pointedly at Christine whose face immediately broke into a bright smile. "But I'm sure we'll be able to have it finished by lunchtime."

With a delighted grin, Antonio took his toast into the lounge room, leaving his parents smiling at each other.


	19. Chapter 19

**We'll Always Have Venice**

A/N: I've taken a little liberty with the reference to _The Kingdom of Paramithi_...considering it's an Australian show and Simon Pryce was a regular Phantom understudy, I thought the intertextuality was appropriate.

For Kahu, welcome to the family.

* * *

Christine sighed as Antonio stomped ahead of her to the car after preschool a few days later. When she arrived to pick him up at the end of the day, his preschool teacher had pulled Christine aside and informed her that the usually happy and sleepy Antonio had not had his nap and had been arguing and refusing to share with the other children. She had been feeling sick for most of the day and did not want to deal with Antonio's foul mood. His teacher had even overheard another child and Antonio saying they wanted to strangle each other! Neither was sure why he had behaved so badly today, but both hoped that an early night would cure Antonio of his bad mood.

Much to Christine's dismay, but not surprise, Antonio's mood continued when he got home. With rehearsals for his musical underway, Erik had been forced to shut himself away in one of the bedrooms that had been converted into a music room so he could make some urgent changes to the score. After an early tea and bath, a few tantrums and a long howl, Antonio went to bed earlier than normal, leaving Christine an extra hour of peace.

After she had completed her usual evening chores of the dishes, washing and general tidying, Christine sat down to read the school's newsletter. She stopped when she saw the advertisement for _The Kingdom of Paramithi _on the back page of the newsletter. That was one of the shows she had actually enjoyed watching with Antonio. Now, the show was being performed as a stage show. She would buy the tickets tomorrow and take Antonio to the show. He would love the opportunity to see one of his favourite shows on stage.

* * *

"What the hell do you mean that you want to withdraw Antonio from preschool?" Erik demanded furiously as he surged to his feet.

"It all seems very clear to me," Christine responded loftily, her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. "I don't want him going to preschool anymore. I don't like what he is picking up from the other children."

"And you think it would be best for him to stay home with you every day? And you can give him everything that he may need for the rest of his life? Do you really think you can be the only woman – the only person – in his entire life?"

Tears glistened in Christine's eyes but she quickly blinked them away before Erik could see how his words had hurt. She stormed across the room and tried to get in his face, glaring up at him, refusing to be daunted by the foot and a bit difference in height.

"I don't believe that I'll be the only woman in his life, Erik! What a stupid thing to say! No, do you know what he said to me this afternoon when I picked him up for lunch? He said he wanted to strangle me because one of the boys in his class had seen a man try to strangle a woman on TV and told him about it. Erik, that is not the way I want my son raised!"

Erik threw his hands up in defeat. He did not think now was the time to point out to Christine that he had said much worse as a child – and at a younger age than Antonio. "_He is a boy, Christine!_"

"Is that how you want our son to grow up? To always be thinking of death?"

"He needs the interaction with kids his own age, Christine! He was too young for that in England, but now, in Paris, it's more important than ever that he socialises with children his own age. Do you want him to grow up like me? If you take him out, I don't know I'll be able to forgive you!"

"Don't you dare to speak to me like that, Erik! You will not try to scare me into submission. Antonio is my son, Erik. I have raised him for the last four years; you cannot just come in here and dictate how I'm going to raise _my_ son. _I _know what is best for him."

"He's my son, too, Christine," Erik hissed and then stormed to the bathroom, slamming the door loudly.

Christine watched Erik lock himself away in the bathroom, her anger turning quickly to tears of frustration. She collapsed on the couch and sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Running out of tears some twenty minutes later, she wiped her eyes and went to check on Antonio.

She found her little boy, hugging his pillow, fast asleep. As she wiped his hair from his face, her fingers brushed the damp pillow. Her light-sleeping son had clearly heard her and Erik arguing and had cried himself back to sleep. Some mother she was!

She wandered forlornly to the bathroom, only to find that Erik shut himself in one of the spare bedrooms. Could nothing go right? She had upset her son to the point that he was so distraught that he cried himself to sleep and angered her lover that he refused to share a bed with her. She washed her face in the cool water, wiping away the tearstains. Back in her bedroom, she dug around in the wardrobe, looking for her silk robe.

Knocking on the door of the bedroom Erik had taken, Christine nervously waited for Erik to call her in. She had once made the mistake of bursting in on him before he was ready to talk to her and had learnt never to do that again. She took a moment to make sure her robe was falling gracefully down her body. She had never tried to seduce anyone before and could not imagine trying it with anyone but Erik. Compared to Raoul, Erik brought out a deeply passionate side that no one had even seen…that Christine didn't feel comfortable sharing with anyone but Erik.

"What!"

Not entirely convinced that Erik wanted to see her, Christine opened the door and leant against the doorjamb. She held the robe tightly in front of her breasts and offered him a small smile. While she wracked her brain for something to say to him to make everything right between them, Erik looked closely at Christine and noticed the tears that had darkened her eyes.

"Erik, I-"

"Just say it, Christine," he said softly as he sat up on the bed. He was still so furious with her that he wanted to continue the argument.

"I love you," she whispered. "I don't like fighting."

"I know you want to do what's best for Antonio, but Christine, you don't have to carry the burden of being the only one to make decisions for him. I'm his father. _Let me help you_."

Tears filled Christine's eyes again as she gave him a brilliant smile. She dropped the robe and stood before him, wearing nothing but the bracelet he had given her for Christmas. Erik didn't move, but just looked at her with his intensely dark blue eyes.

"It's hard for me, Erik. I've coped alone for so long that I can't just stop making decisions," she whispered as she closed the door, unable to pull her gaze away from his and sauntered towards him.

"I'm not asking you to do that, Christine," he responded softly, now sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to place his hands possessively on her hips.

"I know." Christine gently removed his mask and after carefully setting it on the table, cradled his face in her hands and kissed him. She straddled his lap and pressed her breasts against his chest. Her hands fisted in his hair as Erik's hands cupped her breasts.

Christine nuzzled her nose against his neck before she pulled back to look at him, a soft, contented smile lighting her face. His dark blue eyes held her green eyes, silently communicating his need for her to allow him to help her make decisions when it came to their son. She needed to learn how to share the burden of raising Antonio.

Nodding her acceptance, Christine's head fell back as Erik's hands travelled down her body.

* * *

Erik, Christine and Antonio arrived home from _The Kingdom of Paramithi_. Antonio had enjoyed the stage show and even managed to convince his parents to buy him King John's cape and crown from the merchandise stand. But by the time they had returned home, bathed him and prepared tea, Antonio could barely keep his eyes open. Erik and Christine did their best to keep Antonio awake and eating his tea. Eventually, tiredness won out and Antonio's eyes drooped shut. He fell from his chair and continued to sleep on the floor.

It was not surprising that Antonio was so tired. It had been a long day for all of them. They had arrived at the theatre as the auditorium doors opened and had plenty of time to look at the posters, the merchandise stand and eat morning tea, which Christine only picked at. After a minute of whining and pleading, Antonio convinced his parents to let him put on his new shirt.

Throughout the ninety-minute performance, Christine had the pleasure of watching Erik engage their son. Erik, with his son on his lap, hummed along with the songs he had grown up with. Using his grip on Antonio's arms, Erik had him carrying out the actions. He looked just like a normal father. Erik did his best to ignore Christine beside him who could not wipe the smile from her face. Doing their best to make the day special for Antonio, Erik and Christine went for ice cream after the show and then a play in one of Paris' playgrounds.

Christine smiled when she recalled the walk home from the park. Antonio stood between his parents, holding their hands as they all waited for the light to change so they could cross the road. When the light changed to green, at the usual signal from his mother of a gentle squeeze of his hand, Antonio stepped out on the road with his parents and a large number of other people.

Spaced three across, the group of people approaching them from the opposite direction couldn't get past. Seeing the oncoming people who he knew would not get past, Erik wiggled his fingers, trying to get Antonio to release his grip on his hand. Instead of letting go of Erik's hand, Antonio stood still in the middle of the road, confused and annoyed when the people also stopped. He looked up at Erik, silently asking him why people weren't moving.

Glancing over the top of Antonio's head, Erik and Christine began laughing at the situation their son had landed them in. Finally getting Antonio to release his hand, Erik was able to step out of the way and allow people to pass. Still laughing, Erik caught up with Christine and Antonio and took up his son's hand.

"What's so hu-morous?" Antonio demanded, his face showing his annoyance as he looked up his parents who were still laughing.

With Antonio still asleep on the ground, Erik stood, scooped him into his arms and tucked him in his bed, laughing.

"I think you exhausted him," Erik said with a grin when he returned to the table and slid back into his chair.

"_I_ exhausted him? I wasn't the one who was racing him around the perimeter of the playground!"

Erik laughed and nodded his head guiltily. "You should be thankful that I did exhaust him and he went to bed without a problem. After his day today, I wouldn't have been surprised if he were too excited to go to bed."

Christine nodded, pushed her glass across the table to the place next to Erik that Antonio, until recently, had occupied and moved so she would be sitting next to him. She squeezed his hand.

"You're not finishing your dinner?" Erik asked, concerned when he saw the amount of food she had left on her plate on the other side of the table.

She shook her head and struggled to keep back the bewildering bout of tears "I'm not feeling well. I can't stand the smell of meat."

Erik looked at her, guilt in his eyes for causing her such discomfort. What concerned him even more were the tears that slipped from her eyes.

"It's nothing," she promised him with a smile. "I'm just a little emotional; it's all part of the pregnancy."

"Are you sure?" he questioned, unconvinced.

Christine just nodded and kissed his cheeks as she stole Erik's untouched potato from his plate.

She was determined to enjoy the remains of the meal with Erik in peace. Soon, she knew that it would be unlikely to occur. She – and hopefully Erik – would be up in the middle of the night feeding the new baby. Looking intently at Erik, Christine tried to imagine him taking care of a newborn. Smiling, she realised that the image of Erik looking after the baby in the middle of the night came easily to mind.

"What?" he asked when he became aware that she was looking at him.

Christine smiled again, shook her head and pressed a kiss on his left cheek. "I was just thinking what a wonderful father you will be; what a wonderful father you _are_."

Touched by her praise, Erik set his cutlery down on his plate and took Christine's hands in his. "Do you really think that?" he asked, wanting to believe that she saw something in him that he could not. "I've never been around a baby before and don't know how to deal with them."

Raising a soothing hand to Erik's cheek, Christine gave him a reassuring smile. "Nor had I until I had Antonio, but I managed. You will manage, Erik; I know you will. If you can't, that's all right. We're here together."

Comforted, Erik wrapped his arms around Christine's shoulders and kissed her tenderly before returning his attention to his meal.

* * *

While Erik read a bedtime story to Antonio, Christine slipped into the bathroom. Nauseous, she took her time in the shower, washing her hair and shaving her legs, hoping that would ease her discomfort. She lost track of the time as she stood under the hot water.

Christine spun around, shocked when the glass door of the shower began to open. She reached blindly for the door in the dark room, accidentally splashing Erik as he stood on the bathmat.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly. "You've been in here for over half an hour."

Christine nodded her head and, using one of the candles that was already lit, went to light another so that she would be able to see better, splashing him again. Erik picked up his towel from the rack, taking care not to grab Christine's towel since she had neglected to drape it over the bath as she usually did, and began to wipe his face.

"I'm fine." She turned around to face Erik, unable to see him clearly in the darkness. She ran her hands over his damp shirt. "Since I seem to have drowned you, why don't you join me in the shower?" Reaching for him in the darkness she began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

He absentmindedly draped the towel over the edge of the bathtub as he watched Christine's fingers work their way down his shirt. In the semi-darkness, Erik was able to just make out her saucy expression. He smiled when she ran her nails over his chest. He spun her around and pressed his right hand possessively over her stomach as he pulled her against his body. He draped her wet, untied hair over one shoulder and kissed along her neck, his teeth lightly grazing her throat while his free hand lightly caressed her shoulder and collarbone. Christine sighed and shuddered, her knees giving way as she collapsed against Erik's body. Her hand floated up of its own volition to caress his face. Erik moved his attention from her neck to her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm and gently nipped at it, causing Christine's breath to catch in her throat. Her head falling back to rest on Erik's shoulder, Christine gave a sigh.

It had been a while since he had showered with Christine; Erik could clearly remember their last ill-fated attempt. He paused uncertainly when he felt Christine's hand rest lightly on his mask.

"May I?" she asked softly, determined not to repeat the same mistake as she did last time.

"Yes."

Before she removed his mask, Christine blew out the candles and gently pulled the mask from his face and set it on the vanity. She grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the shower. He stopped, quickly removed his trousers before he spun her around and pushed her into the shower.

After a long shower, where she did her best not to touch Erik's face without his permission, Christine climbed out, grabbing the towel over the edge of the bath. She gave Erik a kiss and headed to the bedroom. He watched her leave, feeling helpless as she took off with his towel. A moment later he left the bathroom.

Christine had just pulled on her pyjamas when Erik entered their bedroom, wrapped in her pale purple towel. She turned to him and giggled. It had only taken her a moment to realise that she had grabbed Erik's black towel rather than her own. She was going to return it to him but decided that he would not appreciate a wet towel and so continued to get dressed.

"Sorry."

Judging by the way she was having trouble breathing at the sight of his wet hair, bare chest and purple towel wrapped around his hips, Christine was enjoying the sight and was not the least bit sorry. He just shook his head at her and heaved a suffering sigh.

She sidled up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist before pressing a kiss on his chest. "You look so domestic, Erik," she said with a loving look. She stood up on her toes and kissed him.

Erik shook his head, not sure that he liked being called 'domestic'. He had never imagined himself being in a situation that was even remotely domestic. However, judging by Christine's doting expression and the passionate kiss she had just given him, he decided that he did not mind it.


	20. Chapter 20

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 20**

"We have something important to tell you Antonio," Christine said as she looked up from her hushed conversation with Erik when their son wandered into the music room.

He looked at them, worried that something bad was going to happen. "Are you going away?"

"_No!_" Erik said quickly as he pulled Antonio onto his lap and gave him a bear hug. "Neither Mummy nor I is going away. We have something very exciting to tell you."

"There's a baby growing in my tummy," Christine said softly to Antonio, her green eyes bright with excitement.

"A baby?"

Erik and Christine both nodded.

"_Yay!_ Yay, yay, yay!" Antonio's face lit up as he bounced up and down on Erik's lap.

"Are you happy?" Erik asked dryly as he tipped his head so he could see Antonio's face.

"_Yes!_ How big is the baby?" Antonio asked a minute later once some of his excitement had faded.

"Oh, the baby is very little. It's about this big," Christine said with a smile and she showed him the size of his brother or sister with her thumb and forefinger.

"Will it get bigger?"

"Yes," Erik said on a sigh, suddenly overcome with exhaustion at Antonio's questions.

"I hope so!" Christine laughed.

"Will the baby come on Friday or on the weekend?"

Christine smiled and kissed Antonio's cheek. "It won't come for a long time! It won't be born until after Christmas and Santa have been."

"Oh," Antonio murmured, trying to take in all of this information.

"And, Antonio," Christine said softly, her face serious. "You need to be our secret keeper. You can't tell your teachers at preschool yet."

Antonio nodded happily, promising with a very serious look that he would not tell anyone.

* * *

Struck by an idea for her book, Christine shut herself away in his music room and left Antonio in Erik's care. Erik waited for Antonio outside his preschool room, took him home, fed him afternoon tea and kept him entertained. Now, Erik had Antonio sitting on the bench while he prepared tea.

"Is Mummy sick?" Antonio asked, his little green eyes solemn.

"Mummy's not sick," Erik said as he handed Antonio a slice of carrot the boy had been itching to steal off the cutting board. "She's busy writing her next story. So, until Mummy finishes writing, it's just you and me."

Antonio's face lit up at the thought of one-on-one time with his father. He grinned as he munched away at his carrot. "Can we do craft?"

Erik nodded before tipping the vegetables into the steamer. "We're going to put you in the bath and then we'll have tea. After that, we might make some finger puppets."

"Yes, yes!" Antonio cried, as he tried to wiggle off the edge of the bench, only to be caught by Erik and placed safely on the ground. He raced to the living room and pulled out the boxes of art supplies.

Less than an hour later, Erik and Antonio were sitting on the floor making finger puppets. Erik had covered Antonio's pyjamas in his painting smock and did his best to have fun with his son, but also to make sure he did not excite him too much. He wanted Antonio to go straight to bed.

With Erik's help, Antonio was able to finish his dragon. Together, they glued eyes on the green monster and put dark scales along its back. Erik stuck his completed prince puppet on his finger and wiggled it in front of Antonio's nose.

"I will save the raven-haired maiden from the hideous dragon!" Erik's prince exclaimed as he charged forward to fight Antonio's dragon.

"_Raar!_" Antonio shouted.

"Abracadabra!" the prince yelled, hoping his spell would make the dragon blind.

Antonio frowned at Erik's prince who was still trying to push his dragon off a cliff. "You're dead! I breathed fire!"

Suitably chastised, Erik's prince flopped to the table, burnt by the dragon. He glanced at the clock and pushed to his feet. "Now," Erik said as he pulled off his puppet, "It's time to tidy up and say good night to Mummy."

Unhappy to hear that the play with his father would be cut short, Antonio pouted but began to help Erik pack away the art supplies. The task done, he looked down at his dragon, unable to hold back a yawn.

After Antonio had kissed Christine good night, Erik tucked him into his bed and stretched out beside him to read a couple of stories. Antonio snuggled into Erik's side and rested his head on his shoulder so he could see the pictures.

"Dad?" Antonio softly, turning his head so he could see Erik's face. He placed his hand on Erik's mask and gave him a hopeful look. "Can I look underneath?"

Erik nodded and held his breath as he waited for Antonio's reaction.

Antonio pulled off Erik's mask and looked at him intently for a full minute before pressing a kiss to the scarred cheek and settling back down on Erik's shoulder for his next story.

"Good night, pumpkin," Erik said softly as he climbed from the bed having finished his last story, tucked the blankets around Antonio's chin and kissed his cheek.

"Night, Daddy."

Erik gave him another kiss, picked up his mask and headed for the door. He had just turned off the light when Antonio called out to him. He smiled as he recognised his son's stalling tactic, stopped and waited.

Even if Christine had not warned him that Antonio tended to delay being left alone at night, it would not have taken him long to realise it. The very first time he put Antonio to bed, Antonio had tried to delay his departure by asking anything that came into his four-year-old mind. Now, he found the habit endearing – if occasionally frustrating.

"Daddy?"

"Yes, Antonio," he said in the tone of a longsuffering parent

"Can we make more puppets?"

"We'll make more tomorrow," he promised. "Now, go to sleep, pumpkin."

As Erik partly closed the door, he smiled to himself when he heard Antonio's sleepy yawn. Now that his son was in bed, it was time to finish tidying the kitchen and their art table. Christine was right; he was domesticated. He was living the life he had never expected to live, with a partner, a child and a household. He certainly did not mind it one bit!

* * *

Erik rested against the headboard of the bed with Christine lying between his legs, reclining against his chest as his hands rested possessively on her stomach. She typed furiously, trying not to be concerned or distracted by the fact that he was reading over her shoulder or the tiredness stinging her eyes. Every now and then, she would pause and tilt her head back so that he could kiss her, which he would happily do.

"Have I thanked you?" she asked softly as she took a break, flexing her wrists before they could begin to stiffen. She rested her hands over her stomach, hoping that would somehow quell the nausea.

"What for?" he asked, grinning as he pressed a kiss on her shoulder.

"For looking after Antonio last night without my having to ask you. I was able to get a few chapters finished without interruption. Do you have any idea how rare that is?" She smiled. "It meant a lot to Antonio, too."

"I know," Erik said with a sigh, although he was unable to keep the smile from his face. He glanced at the puppet on the bedside table that Antonio had made a few hours earlier.

Erik and Christine picked up Antonio up from preschool so they could all have lunch out together. As they sat over their baguettes, Antonio turned to Erik, his face serious.

"Can we make puppets now?"

"We'll make some more puppets this afternoon," Erik promised as he ruffled Antonio's hair.

"You still have to go back to preschool."

"I don't want to go," Antonio informed his parents decisively. He fixed them with a dark look, his arms folded across his chest.

After a bout of tears, Erik and Christine managed to get Antonio back to preschool – with the promise that he would be able to make puppets to his heart's content after school. When Erik went to pick Antonio up from school, the first thing he was asked was if they could now make puppets.

With Erik and Antonio busily making puppets, Christine was able to work on her novel, tidy the apartment and prepare dinner without having Antonio underfoot. She smiled as she watched Erik helping Antonio with the fiddly pieces of fabric, knowing that that was something she would never be able to do. Very soon, she had abandoned her tasks and sat on the floor with Erik and Antonio as they played a very serious and animated game of puppets.

"I wouldn't have been much help," Christine said with a sigh as she resumed her typing. "I'm not very artistic."

"I know!" Erik laughed. "I've seen your attempts at drawings. It's just as well you're an author and not an artist!"

Christine laughed. "There are some things I've always wished I've been able to do with Antonio but just don't have the talent. Now that you're here, he isn't missing anything. He loves having you in his life…and so do I."

Erik looked down at the top of Christine's head, wishing she would put aside her laptop so he could look her in the eye. "Do you mean that?"

"Yes," she said simply as she put her computer aside and turned to face him. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you're in Antonio's life and we're a proper family now."

"Is that the only reason I'm here?" Erik asked, suddenly worried that he had been living a lie for the past few months. Despite her confessions, Christine did not love him. She only tolerated him for Antonio's sake.

"_No!_ I love you, Erik," Christine said earnestly as she cupped his face in her hands. "I loved you in Venice and I love you now. What we have is so meaningful that no matter how hard I tried to hate you, I couldn't. If I didn't love you, Erik, you would not be playing such an important part in Antonio's life. You certainly wouldn't be sleeping in my bed."

Erik looked at her, slightly mollified. "You loved me even after what happened in Venice?" He looked at her, amazed that she loved him despite the awful way they parted.

Christine kissed him tenderly on the lips. "For a while I hated you. It wasn't until Antonio was born and I saw how beautiful he was, how he looked like you, that I forgot about my hatred and fear. I have never been able to pretend that I don't love you." She sighed and rested her head against Erik's forehead. "I used to lie in bed and imagine our reunion. In my mind it was always romantic."

"Not quite what really happened," Erik muttered, his heart clenching as he imagined the homecoming image Christine had in her mind and the bleak reality that had transpired.

She covered his lips with her fingers. "It doesn't matter. We're here now." She hugged him around his shoulders, collapsing against his chest and forcing him back against the pillows. "You know what they say: 'all good things come to those who wait'."

Erik smiled, kissed her tenderly on the forehead and hugged her tightly.

* * *

Worried that she had been neglecting Antonio and was becoming a boring mother who never took time to enjoy being with her child, Christine put Antonio on a stool and began to pull out the ingredients for cupcakes. Cooking was one of the few artistic things she could do with Antonio.

She handed him a couple of eggs and watched in amusement as he cracked them better than she ever could. Following her great-aunt's instructions she tried to sift the flour three times, but had to pass the sieve over to Antonio when he started to complain. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the flour lightly coating the bench.

Quite a while later, Erik returned from his phone call with the producer to hear Christine and Antonio giggling in the kitchen. He stopped out of their line of sight to watch them interacting. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw Christine wipe a blob of icing on Antonio's nose. The child giggled, wiped it off and ate it before dipping his fingers in the cocoa powder and smearing it across Christine's cheek. Laughing as she wiped the powder from her cheek, Christine smeared even more icing on Antonio's lips before placing another freshly iced cupcake on a plate.

Finally, Christine saw Erik standing on the other side of the kitchen and stopped, wiping self-consciously at her cheek. A smile came to his lips when he noticed that the cocoa powder was not her only problem; she had icing sugar on her forehead.

"We saved you a beater," Christine said to Erik with a flick of her head.

"Mummy didn't eat hers," Antonio observed with a frown, unable to understand why she had not eaten it when she usually enjoyed it as much as he did.

"We don't want her or the baby to get sick," Erik explained gently, his face serious.

Christine looked at Erik's serious expression and grinned. Before she could reconsider her actions, and before Erik could see what she planned, she wiped a blob of icing on the corner of his mouth.

Erik glared at her with mock fierceness as he raised a finger to remove the offending icing. Catching the wicked glint in his eyes, Christine squealed and ran away but was quickly caught by Erik. He held her tightly, both laughing, as he wiped the icing on Christine's lips. Before she could protest, Erik spun her around in his arms and kissed the icing from her lips.

Breathless, her face pink from laughter, Christine looked at Erik and giggled again. The icing would have been smeared all over his mask if he had been wearing it! Pulling him back into the kitchen, she seriously wiped his cheek with a tea towel and then promptly burst into laughter once again.

On his stool, Antonio was grinning at the sight of his parents playing around. He had never seen either of them so carefree at the same time. Usually one of them was playful while the other was serious.

"Can we eat the cupcakes now?" Antonio asked when his parents had finally stopped laughing.

"We need to finish icing the rest of these cupcakes," Christine explained gently as she pointed to the half dozen cakes still sitting on the cooling rack.

"Why don't I make some tea while you and Mummy finish icing the cupcakes? Then, we can all have a cupcake and you can tell me what trouble you got up to while cooking. There's icing sugar _all over_ the floor!" Erik's eyes were wide as he looked down at the tiles in front of the workspace, which were covered in icing sugar.

Antonio laughed and handed another cake to his mother. Christine gave Erik an embarrassed look over her shoulder; it was her fault the floor was covered in the white powder.

Erik said nothing as he set about making tea, coffee and hot chocolate. For a moment he wondered if he could convince Christine to take up drinking coffee, but knew it to be pointless; she would never give up her five cups of tea a day! By the time he had made all the hot drinks, Christine and Antonio were carrying the cupcakes into the dining room.

Erik watched Christine and Antonio happily eating the cakes, wondering what he had done to deserve such a wonderful family. He saw Christine watching him suspiciously and smiled unrepentantly at her.

She shook her head at his unashamed study of her and then turned to Antonio. "You must really be enjoying that cupcake, grubby bubby! The icing is _all_ over your face!"

Antonio nodded happily and took another big bite of the cake, beneath the table one of his legs tapped excitedly against the table.

Erik smiled and leant over the table to kiss the corner of Christine's mouth. "You had icing on your lips," he said when he saw her confused expression. He smiled at Christine who quickly returned his smile and kissed him again, knowing that there was no icing on her face.

* * *

In an attempt to still her tossing, Erik tightened his grip on Christine's waist. After a few more minutes of being unable to calm her, Erik sighed and kissed the back of her head.

"You're writing, aren't you?" he said, with an exasperated smile. He pushed her hair, which had fanned over his pillow, from his eyes.

With a nod, Christine rolled over to face Erik. "I'm sorry, Erik. I know you're trying to sleep."

"We're both slaves to our muses. Go and get your laptop. You won't sleep until you get the scene out of your mind." He was relieved that, at least for Christine, her muse could easily be answered and did not require a several hour journey out of Paris.

Christine gave him a hard kiss, flicked on the lamp and rushed to get her laptop. She returned a minute later, pulled the blankets around her lap and began typing. Pausing in her work for a moment, Christine looked down at Erik and grimaced guiltily when she saw that he had his arm draped over his eyes to block out the light. She returned to her story, determined to outline the scene as quickly as possible.

Almost an hour later, Christine closed her computer and turned off the light. Erik murmured in his sleep and tugged her against his body, relieved that she would finally go to sleep. Christine wrapped her arms around Erik's torso and rested her head on the pillow beside his.

They slept with their arms about each other until a little before dawn when Erik woke to the sound of Antonio and his pillow scraping softly down the hall. Smiling, he threw back the blanket, silently inviting Antonio into bed. Once Antonio was settled, Erik wrapped one arm around Christine and the other around Antonio and went back to sleep. He dropped a kiss on his forehead and then another on Christine's lips, which she sleepily returned.

* * *

For the past few days, Christine had woken at about two in the morning, feeling sick and was finding it difficult to concentrate on her editing. She just read over the words, her eyes wide, without any of them actually making sense. Erik was on the phone with one of the producers of his musical, keeping up to date with the rehearsals.

When the time came for Antonio to go down for a nap, too tired to concentrate, Christine decided to join him. So, she tucked him into Erik's side of the bed and lay down, immediately drifting off to sleep. Antonio shifted in his sleep, wiggling so he could rest his head on Christine's pillow, lying on her hair.

After half an hour, Christine climbed from her bed, careful not to disturb Antonio who was still asleep on her pillow. She smiled dotingly down at him. He looked just like his father. As usual, one hand was over his head and he had somehow pulled a cushion from the top of the bed and was hugging that to his stomach.

While Antonio slept on, Christine sat in on Erik's conversation with the producer. She sat in the chair, listening to the sound of his voice and his side of the conversation. Still drowsy, his voice lulled her to back to sleep.

Erik had turned around when he heard her enter the room and gave her a weak smile before closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Things weren't going quite as well as he had hoped. With only four months until opening night, he was running out of time.

"What do you mean you can't convince her to change her mind?" Erik shouted, waking Christine from her light sleep. He winced when Christine bolted to her feet, obviously worried that something was wrong with Antonio. Looking at her apologetically, he held out his arm to her, inviting her into his arms. He tried to ease his breathing and the tension from his body as he had been taught.

With Christine sitting on his lap, her fingers caressing the hair at the nape of his neck, Erik lowered his voice. "We can't afford this. You need to sort this out, Cameron. I really don't want to have to leave my family to fix something that you should be able to," he finished coolly as he placed his free hand on her stomach, which was now beginning to show.

Christine looked at Erik in surprise, taken aback by his coldly spoken words. "What's the problem?" she asked when he had disconnected from the call.

Erik sighed and rested his forehead on her shoulder. "I need to rewrite a scene in two days."

Christine wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed a kiss on his lips, trying not to worry herself because of his high temperature. She had noticed that he had been showing signs of flu over the last few days. She suspected it was because he was overworking. "You can do it, Erik; I know you can do it." She kissed him again. "And what is the problem that had you so angry at Cameron?"

Erik gently slid Christine from his lap and set her down in the chair before he started to pace the room. After a full minute of pacing, he stopped and looked at her. "I'm still having issues with the two leads. They are refusing to attend rehearsals unless they get a pay rise."

"That's still going on!" Christine gasped, unable to believe that Erik still did not have that resolved.

"I'm paying them above minimum wage! They can't do this to me!" Exhausted, Erik collapsed into another chair and hung his head. "I need Cameron to sort this out. I don't want to have to go back to Melun. I don't want to have to deal with Corrine…again."

"I know you don't want to, Erik, but maybe you do need to recast the roles. If you continue to indulge her whims, you may not have enough time to do what you have to if you need to make some drastic changes."

Erik looked at Christine in surprise. He turned on her, his expression dark. "You want me to recast the lead role?"

"It's ridiculous, Erik! Here you are, working and worrying yourself, and all your company can do is complain and criticise. I know you don't want to think that you made the wrong decision when you cast Corrine, but I think it would be best for the show and yourself if you recast the role.

"I can't bear to see you so stressed. No one is as wonderful as you seem to think Corinne is, Erik, that you can risk your health," Christine finished passionately as she irritably crossed the room to stand before his chair. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

Erik smiled and pulled Christine down onto his lap and gently kissed her, touched by her concern for him.


	21. Chapter 21

**We'll Always Have Venice**

**Chapter 21**

Life was perfect.

Antonio was thriving under the care of both his parents. He was just like the other kids and no longer felt different because he did not have a father. His favourite time of the day was when Erik picked him up from preschool. Not many of the other kids' fathers picked them up. It made him feel special.

Erik and Christine had fallen into a routine and were secure in their relationship. They were as in love with each other today as they had been five years ago. They hated being separated from each other and would try to spend as little time apart as possible. During the day, they would either work side by side or would browse the shops, looking for things for the baby and the nursery.

She had made such remarkable progress on her third novel that, for once, Christine did not mind that she had to put it aside. Just as she had with Antonio, she again found the pregnancy tiring. It was just as well that she had decided to put her book on hold; she had Erik's and Antonio's birthdays to shop and prepare for. Then only a few weeks after that was Christmas!

Erik was counting down the weeks until the baby was born. He would read magazine and books late into the night, trying to understand exactly what was happening to Christine and the baby. He was also driving Christine mad with his concerns for her health and safety. But, Christine could not help but smile; she had missed this aspect when she was pregnant with Antonio. No one had fretted over her welfare.

Only two things marred their halcyon days: Erik's fear that he baby would look like him and Christine's morning sickness. But both did their best to hide their concerns from the other. Erik was fairly certain that Christine would be able to love the child even if he or she looked like him. For hours, he would stare at the picture of the ultrasound that Christine had placed in a frame on her bedside table. The sonagrapher said the baby did not appear to have any signs of congenital diseases. And even if he or she did, it would all be all right. Christine loved him, so it was not completely impossible that she could also love a child that looked like him.

As Christine looked at Erik's face, relaxed in sleep, she smiled and dropped a light kiss to his lips. She did not doubt that she and Erik would be together forever.

Everything was perfect.

* * *

After a long day out at the park, playing in the snow with Erik and Antonio, Christine returned to the apartment nauseous and tired. Her temper was frayed. She looked at Antonio and sighed when she saw the dirt smeared across his face.

"Come on, bubby. Would you like to have a bath?"

Antonio looked up at her and shook his head.

She sighed again and shared a suffering look with Erik. "You're going to have a bath. Now, who would you like to give you a bath?"

"Daddy! He gives me bigger baths!"

Handing Antonio over to his father who just grinned at Antonio, Erik pulled him down the hall, saying, "Mummy doesn't know how to use bubble bath!"

With a weak laugh, Christine headed to the kitchen, prepared to start tea. She wished that Antonio had chosen her to bath him. She was not looking forward to enduring the smell of cooking meat. Maybe she could convince the boys to have vegetarian pasta tonight.

Wandering down the hallway to the bathroom to ask precisely what they wanted to eat, Christine stopped short at the sight of Antonio sitting alone in a deep bath, his toys floating around him.

"Where's Daddy?" she asked, unable to keep her anxiety from her voice.

Antonio shrugged and then returned his attention to his boat.

Unable to leave her son unattended in the bath, Christine sat on the edge and supervised him as he played. A few minutes later, Erik returned and stopped short when he saw Christine.

"I thought you were cooking tea," Erik said, surprise lacing his voice.

"I was until I came in to ask what you wanted to eat. It was just as well that I did; you left Antonio alone!"

"Only for a couple of minutes."

"But anything could have happened in that time, Erik!" Fear for her son made Christine's voice sharp. "He could have slipped and drowned!"

"He can swim," Erik said as he recalled watching a video of Antonio at a swimming lesson. He could not understand why she was so upset.

"That's not the point! Someone needs to stay with him at all times while he's in the bath. You can't leave him alone! You have to stay with him."

"You're overreacting," Erik responded calmly.

Christine shook her head. For almost four years she had raised Antonio on her own and was used to making decisions. After the conversation she and Erik had shared a few days ago, she promised she would hand over more control to him so that he could have more input his son's life.

"There's an ad in the school newsletter for dance classes," Erik had said to Christine one night as he handed her the paper after he had finished reading it.

Christine nodded, distractedly accepting the newsletter but not looking at it. She was busy checking off a list of things she still needed to buy for the baby.

"I thought Antonio could take up dancing," he continued, undeterred by her lack of attention.

At that, Christine pulled her thoughts away from the list and stared first at Erik and then at the paper. "I don't think so, Erik. Antonio will be picked on at school if the kids learn that he's taken up dancing. I won't let that happen to him."

For a moment Erik said nothing. He had expected that. "I don't want that either. But I think he should do it, Christine. It will develop his coordination and rhythm and he'll also have a chance to interact with other children."

"Erik, I still don't-" She stopped as she read the ad again and considered Erik's suggestion. "You really think it's a good idea?"

He just nodded. He could see that she was beginning to waver, but he didn't dare push his luck.

"If you're sure, then we'll enrol him in dancing. It will be good for him to use his musicality in another way."

But, Christine assured herself as she glanced down at Antonio playing with his boat, she was justified in her reaction. Her son's safety was at risk!

"I suppose you've left him alone in the bath before?" When Erik opened his mouth to comment, Christine put up a hand and lunged to her feet. "I don't want to hear it!"

"Christine-"

"If you won't stay with him, you can cook tea," Christine informed him loftily as she folded her arms across her breasts.

"Chris, you're overreacting."

"Forgive me if I want to protect my son from drowning!" she snapped, furious as she wiped at the tears falling down her cheeks before kneeling awkwardly on the tiles to wash Antonio.

Sighing, Erik left Christine to get started on dinner.

* * *

Christine returned from picking Antonio up from preschool to find Erik sitting on their bed. His suitcase was open and half-packed. She stared at his back, too distraught by his words to speak.

"I don't think I can do it. She's being too demanding; expecting that everything be done _her_ way," he said to the other person on the phone. "I think I'd be better off without her."

Erik paused as he listened to the speaker. "I would hate to lose him. However I am well aware that it is both or neither. If I don't have to have to have her, I am sure I can live without him."

Erik spoke for a few minutes, but Christine heard nothing as she stumbled back to the family room where she had left her son. She clutched her hand to her stomach, worried she was going to be ill. Numb, she began to prepare dinner, simply going through the motions. Erik had had enough of her? He thought she was demanding and honestly believed his life would be better without her? She could not imagine living without him again.

And Antonio! He would give up his son because he could not stand the sight of the mother of his child? All along, she had been trying to protect Antonio and his heart from becoming attached to Erik unless she knew he would stay. But what about her? Who was protecting her heart? Just when she thought she could trust him never to leave, he was planning to walk out on them. She believed that she would be able to trust Erik, but it seemed she was wrong.

* * *

"Have I done something to annoy you?" Erik finally asked as he and Christine readied for bed.

Dinner had been incredibly strained with Christine giving him a cold shoulder that could freeze hell. He tried several times to talk to her but had not got anywhere. Finally he had had enough of her moodiness and demanded an answer.

"No," she muttered as she lay down, presenting him with her back.

"Have I _said _something?"

Christine sat up and looked pointedly at the suitcase. "So you're leaving. You were just going to pack your bags and leave? When were you going to tell your son and me that you were leaving? Or don't we rate a mention?"

Confused, Erik looked at Christine. "I'm leaving first thing tomorrow morning," he responded, unsure why she was so mad about his business trip.

"I guess it's nothing like you expected, huh?" she continued sarcastically. "And both or neither isn't really fair."

"That's just how it is." Erik nodded slowly, wondering if they were talking about the same thing.

"Damn right that's just how it is. Since that's the way it's going to be, you might as well get used to sleeping alone."

Erik looked at her truly confused. "Christine, I love you. _Talk to me._"

Infuriated by his proclamation of love, Christine's temper finally snapped. _"Get out of my bed!"_

"I'm not in your bed," he responded childishly, taken by surprise by her sudden anger.

"Good. And you won't be sleeping here tonight…or ever again."

"Christine, it's just a few days."

"Oh, that's they all say! But days become weeks, which become months, which become years. I'm not going through that again. God, I wish I could have spared Antonio!"

"Christine, I love you," he said softly, earnestly as he pleadingly held his hands out to her.

Angered once again, Christine rose from the bed and glared at him. "You love no one but yourself." She picked up her book and threw it at him, narrowly missing his head.

He shook his head. Surely now she knew that she and Antonio were the only people in his life that he loved? What love did he have for himself? They were the best things that ever happened to him!

Unwilling to sleep with her in such a mood, Erik grabbed his pillow and went to find another bed.

* * *

Christine rocked Antonio in her arms as he continued to scream. She wiped ineffectually at his tears and held him tighter as she walked through the apartment, trying to calm him.

"Where's Daddy?" he asked between hiccuping sobs.

"He's gone away for a little while," Christine lied.

He had been gone for three days and she doubted he was ever coming back. She had to try to spare her son's feelings. She had to keep hope alive in his little heart; one of them had to hope that Erik would return and they could be a family again. The irony that this time he had walked out on her, leaving her expecting yet another of his children, was not lost on Christine.

"I want Daddy!"

"I know you do, bubby," she said, her own tears beginning to fall down her cheeks. "But he's not here now."

_"I want Daddy!"_

Unable to hold back her sobs for another moment, Christine allowed the tears to flow freely. She carried her son to her bedroom and curled up on her bed, hugging Antonio tightly to her.

* * *

Taking a break between auditions, Erik dialled Christine's mobile number and waited for her to answer. She had not answered any of his calls over the last four days and was forced to assume she was busy writing. Again, she did not answer his call. He hung up, concerned. When he left the theatre, he would look for Phoebe's number and have her check on Christine and Antonio.

* * *

"Erik rang me last night," Phoebe told Christine with a concerned look. "He wanted me to check on you because you haven't been answering any of his calls."

"Why would I speak to him when he left us?"

Phoebe shrugged before she covered Christine's hand with her own and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Maybe you should speak to him. Maybe it's all just a big misunderstanding."

Christine glared at her friend. "Talking wouldn't get us anywhere. You should have heard what he said about me!"

"I don't think he would leave you. I just can't imagine Erik leaving his children," Phoebe said softly, worried about Christine's wellbeing.

Christine placed a hand on her stomach that she had long since given up trying to hide. At almost seven months pregnant, she knew it was a waste of time. She hated the pitiful and knowing looks the mothers gave her when she went to pick Antonio up from school. Christine was clearly pregnant and Erik had not been there in almost a week.

It had not taken the mothers long to realise that Erik was a devoted father and nearly almost always took his son to school and picked him up. Erik, Christine and Antonio gave off the image – until recently – of being a perfect family. The mothers were all convinced that there clearly was trouble in paradise. It had to be terrible if Erik were absent from his son's life. They all felt sorry for Christine, wondering what had happened to cause a rift between Erik and Christine.

"How is Antonio coping with Erik's…" Phoebe tactfully trailed off.

"He's taking it hard," Christine confessed. "He has cried himself to sleep for the past few nights. Apparently he's been acting up a bit at preschool. Neither of us has been sleeping well. I told _him_ not to do this to us! I warned Erik that he could not just walk away from Antonio!" Christine's anger faded as quickly as it had arrived and she burst into tears.

* * *

"Get out of here! Stop wasting my time!" Erik shouted, infuriated by the poor audition of a young woman. "You cannot sing! Get out of my sight! _Next!_"

The woman's eyes filled with tears as she rushed offstage. Blinded by her tears, she did not see the other woman who was trying to make her way onstage.

"Sorry," the woman in tears muttered.

"Are you alright?" the other asked, sympathetically. "That really was horrible of him to say that to you. You _can _sing. These producers tend to get a little short when they've been watching auditions all day."

"Miss Jamari Fitzroy! If you don't hurry up and get on stage, I'll assume you don't want the part!" Erik's voice echoed through the theatre. "You have five seconds!"

The woman sniffled and continued on her way. Jamari walked slowly onstage and shot a lofty look in the general area where she believed the producers would be sitting.

"When you're ready, Miss Fitzroy," Erik said, his voice filled with suffering.

"Oh, I'm ready. However, I would prefer not to start until I know that you are all ready and willing to give each performer an equal chance. I don't intend to waste my time."

Erik's chuckle echoed softly through the auditorium. He liked this Jamari; she had the spunk that the character needed. "In your own time, then."

* * *

With the opening night only four weeks away, Erik, the director and the new company – consisting of Jamari and Marcel – were busily rehearsing.

"What do you think you are doing?" Erik shouted at the director. "This is not at all how I wanted my musical to be performed. I thought there was a purpose behind all of those bloody phone calls! Why did you bother ringing me when you have not implemented a single thing I said? Why have I spent hours on the phone with you, putting _everything_ on hold when every piece of advice appears to have been wasted?

"Take a five minute break while I deal with this _incompetent _director," Erik instructed the company before turning his attention to the director.

Jamari and Marcel stood together in the wings. She gave him a wide-eyed look; worried that Erik would soon be turning his attention from the director to the leads. She really did not understand why he was so furious and taking it out on the company or the director.

"The man is bloody insane! He wouldn't know courtesy if it bit him on the arse."

Jamari looked over her shoulder to make sure that Erik had not heard Marcel's insults. Erik's face was purple with rage and his eyes flashed angrily. She shuddered and rubbed her hands over her upper arms in an attempt to ward off chills, wondering if Erik ever smiled and spoke softly.

* * *

Phoebe dragged Christine to La Fayette while the boys were at preschool. In an attempt to distract and cheer her up, Phoebe forced Christine to go shopping with her. She had hoped that getting her friend out of the house and spending money would help, but Christine was withdrawn and distant as ever.

She had also noticed Christine's reluctance to talk about the baby and feared that she may have had a change of heart about it. The only time Christine ever spoke about the baby was when she complained about not being able to see her feet. She would buy something for the baby; that would surely cheer her up!

As the women wandered through the underwear section, Christine's face fell as she recalled the time that she and Erik had spent together in Venice. They had gone underwear shopping together.

Tears filled her eyes but she quickly blinked them away, not wanting Phoebe to see how upset she was about Erik; although she could have easily put it down to her hormones. She gave her friend a weak smile and tried to engage with her in conversation, when all she wanted to do was cry and pine over Erik.

It had been two weeks since she had heard from him and still she was no closer to moving on. There were days when she was very happy to forget all about Erik and begin her life again with Antonio. However, some days – like today – she wished things were different. She wished that he had not just walked out of her life.

* * *

Pleased with how the production was coming along, Erik finally believed that it was time to return to Paris. He could finally trust the company to perform his songs properly. In fact, he had to admit that he was relieved that Corinne and Laurent had left the show. They would not have been able to do the characters and show justice the same way as Jamari and Marcel. Nodding with approval, Erik was convinced that everything had worked out for the better.

Over the past few weeks, Erik's mind had been filled with thoughts of the musical and Christine and Antonio. He had not been able to stop thinking about his family. Nor could he explain why Christine was refusing to answer his calls. Things had been strained when he had left Paris, but he had hoped that after a few days of separation, Christine would be willing to talk to him. They belonged together.

The day before he planned to return to Paris, Erik was wandering through the shops as they were closing. He paused in front of a jeweller and stared at a sparkling antique diamond ring. Smiling to himself, Erik strode through the door.

* * *

Christine glared at the clothes Erik had left in the drawers and closet. He had even left that blasted coffee machine! The appliance was meant to be his way of telling her that he would never leave her. Now, it just taunted her.

Her hands on her hips, she wondered why he had not taken everything with him when he left. Weeks after he had gone, she was finally ready to put his things away. It was most definitely time to forget about Erik and move on. By the time she was finished, she planned to leave no trace of him ever living there. With a new, grim determination, she went in search of a box and a hairdresser's phone number.


	22. Chapter 22

**We'll Always Have Venice**

Well, we've reached the last chapter of Venice. Thanks to everyone who read my story and took the time to review.

* * *

**Chapter 22**

"What are you doing here?" Christine asked in a shaky voice when she saw Erik waiting by her car.

It had been three weeks since she had last seen him; she had only been able to get Antonio to bed without crying just two days ago. Even now, he was clinging tightly to Erik, refusing to let him go. She tried to pull her little boy away, but Antonio just tightened his grip on Erik's leg. She could not believe that he was here now, putting their son through this again. _How dare he!_

"Why are you here? Haven't you caused enough heartache, Erik?" she demanded furiously, still trying to get Antonio away.

So much had changed over the last few weeks he had been away. Something had happened to Christine to make her think that he wanted nothing to do with her. What that was, he really had no idea. He had tried to talk to her before he left for Melun but had failed. He had even missed the changes in Christine's body and seeing his child grow. She had even decided to chop off her hair while he was gone!

"I've come home. I knew you would be here to pick Antonio up and couldn't wait to see you both. I missed you so much, Christine. I'm sorry work took longer than I expected." He stepped forward to kiss her but stopped when she backed away. His blue eyes darkened with the pain of her unexpected rejection.

"Work?" Christine asked, dazed. She took a step back, thankful for the support of her car behind her.

"I told you about the trouble I had with Corinne."

"Yes, of course, but what does that have to do with anything?" she asked, puzzled.

Erik cocked his head as he looked at her in confusion. "I was forced to recast the male and female leads for the show. I've been in Melun, auditioning and overseeing the rehearsals for the past few weeks. We open in a fortnight; I had to be there longer than I would have liked."

Christine nodded, her green eyes confused and embarrassed. "I thought-"

"What did you think I was doing?" Erik asked urgently as he took a step towards her. Cautiously, he placed his hand on her arm, hoping she wouldn't push him away and feeling heartened when she leant into his touch. His right hand joined his left as he held onto her tightly, believing, finally, that he had her in his arms.

"I thought you had left me," she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"Why would I do a stupid thing like that?" Didn't she know how much she meant to him? She, Antonio and the baby were the only reasons he got up in the mornings. Without them, his life was meaningless.

"_But I heard you on the phone. _You were saying that I was being demanding and you would be better off without me!"

Erik chuckled and pulled Christine into his arm, squeezing Antonio between their bodies, and gave her a hard kiss. "You little fool. You darling fool." Erik kissed her forehead when he felt her bristle. "I was talking to Cameron about the two leads I had to recast." Christine hung her head. Erik was silent for a moment as he replayed the conversation in his mind.

He could see how she might have thought that he was referring to her when he called Corrine 'demanding'; he was willing to give up Laurent if it meant getting rid of the Prima Donna. He had said that he was better off without either of them. How often had Christine expressed her fear that he would walk out on her and Antonio? Without hearing names, it was not surprising that she thought he was prepared to leave his family.

"You thought I was talking about you and Antonio?"

When she nodded sadly.

Erik shook his head at her stupidity. "I never left you and Antonio. I have never stopped loving either of you. I will repeat it every day if that is what you want to hear; I love you and I am not going anywhere." He wrapped his arms around her tightly and kissed her.

Christine pulled away from him quickly and looked around, embarrassed. Mothers and their children were staring at them in open-mouthed astonishment. Although, she had to admit with a smirk, the mothers who had looked down at her only yesterday were now looking enviously at her as Erik kissed her deeply. She tried to push against his chest to escape his embrace. "Erik, people are looking."

"Kiss me, Christine, or I'll kiss you until you faint." His eyes sparkled with excitement, hope and desire.

Christine sighed in defeat, wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss.

"I do not want to leave you _ever_. You and Antonio are my life; I cannot imagine it without you. I am never – ever – going to leave you."

* * *

Erik tucked Antonio into bed, taking great pleasure in the fatherly act. He kissed his son good night and partially closed the door behind him as he went in search of Christine. His boy had not allowed him out of his sight since he had picked him up from preschool. Erik could well understand Antonio's feelings; he did not want to let go of Christine or Antonio either.

He found Christine where he left her, sitting in the living room, her feet resting on the coffee table, staring unseeingly at the TV with a soft smile on her face. For a moment, he stood in the doorway, gazing at the woman he loved and taking delight in her obviously rounded stomach. Stopping in the kitchen, he pulled a larger than normal tub of ice cream from the freezer and two spoons and joined Christine on the lounge and kissed her on the cheek.

Resting his arm along the back of the lounge, he could not hold back a sigh of contentment when Christine burrowed into his side and wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Erik touched her hair that she had cut short with a tender hand before offering her a spoon.

"Why did you do this?" He had been waiting for hours to ask her why she had made such a drastic change to her hair. He loved her long hair and the way it seemed to always fan across his pillow in the morning.

Christine raised a self-conscious hand to her curling, chin-length hair. "When I thought you had left me I decided a change was in order. I thought that since I was at a new stage in my life, a new hairstyle was in order. I did the same when I found out I was pregnant with Antonio."

Erik nodded, appearing to understand. He touched her hair again and kissed her. "I like it. I think I miss your longer hair, but I like the new look."

Christine looked up at him guiltily. She knew how much he liked the way her hair would fall loosely around her shoulders and now she had hacked it off. If she was honest with herself, Erik's love of her hair was part of the reason she had decided to change her hairstyle. "It'll grow back."

"I know. But you won't be able to do much with it for the opening night."

"What?" She shifted so she would be able to look him in the eye.

"I want you to come to Melun with me for the opening night of the musical. It's only three weeks away. I mean it, Christine; I want you by my side; both at the after party and forever."

"What?" she asked again, dumbly. She was wondering if he was asking her what she thought. She was so emotionally drained that she was having trouble thinking straight.

Erik slid to the floor, kneeled in front of Christine and held her hands in his. "This isn't exactly how I imagined doing this, but it seems to be the right time. Christine, I adore you. I missed you terribly while I was in Melun; I missed you terribly when you left Venice. Not a day passed that I didn't think of you. I love you and want you in my life. I want you by my side forever as my wife."

Christine looked at him and then began to sob.

Erik looked at her worriedly and released her hands. "I'm sorry, Christine, I shouldn't have asked. I know you've been furious with me the last few weeks. But I can change! I promise in the future I won't focus so much on my work. You and Antonio are the most important things in my life. You don't need to say anything." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead and headed out of the room, convinced that he had ruined the chance to be with Christine.

"Erik."

He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, but could not bring himself to turn around to look at her. "Yes, Christine?"

"Yes."

Releasing his grip on the doorknob, he turned around and looked questioningly at her. "Yes what?" he whispered, hardly daring to hope.

Christine rose from the couch and crossed to where Erik stood. She tentatively reached out to touch his chest before looking up at him with a smile. "Yes, I will marry you. I _want _to!"

Erik exhaled loudly and wrapped his arms around Christine's waist. "Do you mean that?"

Christine laughed softly and stood on her toes to peck him on the lips. "I mean that with all my heart. I _want _to be your wife."

* * *

"Where did you get that?" Antonio asked after Christine settled him on her lap the following morning. His little fingers touched the antique diamond ring on her left hand.

Erik smiled and settled his arm around Christine's shoulders, setting his paper aside.

She smiled as sipped her tea. "Daddy gave it to me last night."

Missing the significance of her answer, Antonio turned his attention back to the TV.

Shaking his head at his son's disinterest, Erik kissed Christine. "No second thoughts?"

"Absolutely none! It belongs there, doesn't it?" she asked with a smile as she held out her hand for him to admire.

"It looks better than I ever imagined." He lightly touched the diamond on her finger, his eyes full of love and amazement and then dropped a kiss on her lips.

"I loved that you picked an antique ring for me! I love the idea of wearing another woman's engagement ring and hopefully sharing her love that she felt for her fiancé with you. I hope that we can have a long and happy marriage just like this ring's previous owner."

Erik smiled in relief and kissed her again. Buying an antique ring had been a risk; he did not know if she liked antique jewellery and the idea of wearing something that belonged to a deceased person. Fortunately, Christine, ever the romantic, loved it!

"Is it your birthday?" Antonio asked, engaging in the conversation again.

Christine laughed and kissed his head. "No, bubby. Daddy and I are getting married," she said excitedly as she gazed up at Erik, her love for him shining in her eyes.

* * *

Erik sighed in relief when he felt Christine's arm slide through his. Jamari had taken a liking to his fiancée and had dragged her around the opening night party, introducing her to various members of the company, leaving Erik alone for almost an hour.

Christine smiled up at Erik and handed him a glass of champagne. He returned her smile and sipped gratefully from the glass, instantly relaxing now that he was no longer alone. He stroked his fingers over the silk of her navy cocktail dress that did nothing to disguise her bump.

It was not the first time that he had been uncomfortable tonight. At the end of the performance, Erik had been forced onstage with Jamari and Marcel. From her seat in the front, Christine watched her fiancé, her heart bursting with love and pride for him. He looked about him uncomfortably at the applause he received from the company and audience. Beneath his mask and his discomfort, his eyes sparkled with pride.

Christine sipped from her glass of sparkling water and sighed when Erik dropped a kiss on her lips.

"Did you enjoy being dragged around by Jamari and meeting everyone?" Erik asked dryly and then kissed her again.

Christine nodded and giggled. "I didn't expect everyone to be so nice. Or that they would have such interesting stories…particularly about you, Erik." She kissed him on the cheek.

Erik looked guiltily between Christine and Jamari.

"Oh, don't worry," Christine said, laughing again. "Everyone has been very diplomatic."

"I suppose I was a little overbearing," Erik conceded with a shake of his head. "Considering how hard I've been pushing you all the last few weeks, perhaps I do owe company something," he said to Jamari who merely smiled.

"That sounds like a brilliant idea. You need to organise another party or presents before we go back to Paris," Christine said glancing between Erik and Jamari.

Erik nodded. "You're the creative one, Christine. You can help me come up with something."

Christine laughed and kissed Erik again.

Jamari, who had until now been silently watching the sweet and playful exchange between the couple finally spoke up. "I never thought you would be so nice."

Erik looked at Jamari, having forgotten that she was standing with them, grimaced and pulled Christine away to a secluded corner.

"I didn't realise how hard you found being separated from Antonio and me for so long. I didn't know you were so task-oriented when you came here to recast the show. The stories I have heard…"

"_Task-oriented_." Erik laughed and kissed Christine deeply. "You're as diplomatic as the company."

"I have to be; you share my bed!" She smiled at him and pulled his head down to hers. Her face lost its lightness as she turned serious. "I love your show, Erik. I love your company and I think that they will do it justice. Can we see it again before we go home? Maybe we could even take Antonio!"

He laughed. "You're clearly very tired and have no idea what you're saying. I think we need to get you to bed."

Christine nodded and then gave him a serious look. "Do you promise that we can see it again before we go back to Paris?"

Erik chuckled, kissed her before he wrapped his arms around her waist and led her towards the exit.

The moment Erik and Christine were out of sight, Jamari turned to Marcel with a surprised look. She shook her head when she realised that Erik was not at all like the man who had made the poor girl cry at the audition. She smiled as she watched Erik offer his hand to Christine as she pulled off her shoes before he wrapped his arm around her waist and fitted her body into the curve of his.

* * *

Two months later, Erik paused in his lullaby as he looked down at his four-week-old son, nestled into the crook of his arm as he grudgingly drank from a bottle. It was one of those rare moments that he was able to spend some time alone with Xander. Antonio was at school and Christine was out with Phoebe getting her haircut.

It had taken him a while to convince Christine that it would be all right for her to spend some time taking care of herself without taking Xander with her, but he had finally succeeded. He was still amazed at the strength and courage his tiny Christine possessed. During the eight hours of childbirth, he had been in almost as much pain as Christine; her painful grip on his wrist was preferable to the fear consuming him. He was terrified that either his child would look like him or something would happen to Christine. He could not imagine a life without Christine. In the end, he had a tiny healthy boy and a tired but perfectly safe wife-to-be.

Erik did not know what he had missed with Antonio, but now that he had experienced the early days of his second son's life, he would never willingly give up fatherhood. Everyday was an amazing experience with his baby boy; the simplest things were a delight. Xander's sleepy little sighs always brought a smile to his face.

He could still remember seeing Xander immediately after he had been born and that first exquisite time he saw his son's little green eyes, which were so like Christine's. Since then, Xander had grown to look more like Christine, much to Erik's pleasure. He loved seeing so much of his beloved fiancée in his son.

Erik was not sure how Christine was coping being away from her baby for almost two hours, but he hoped, that with Phoebe to keep her calm, she would enjoy herself. He never thought spending time with his son, who could only sleep and cry, would be such an amazing experience.

He stopped singing long enough to take a sip of water and found Xander looking up at him expectantly. Erik chuckled softly and continued singing. Xander's little face brightened with his first smile before he returned his attention back to his bottle. Erik's heart stopped when he saw that beautiful smile and then one of his own lit his face.

* * *

EPILOGUE

Christine returned from checking on the sleeping Antonio and Xander to find Erik looking at the statue that sat on the bedside table in the London apartment that they were living in for the fortnight. She pulled down the zip of her dress and allowed it to pool at her feet as she crossed to the bed even as Erik pulled off his bowtie and put it on the desk beside his mask. It had been a long night.

She smiled when he handed her the remains of the sandwich from lunch and kissed him lightly on his cheek. Somehow, without her even saying it, Erik knew precisely what she was craving. He left her on the edge of the bed and draped his coat over the back of a chair.

"What did I do to deserve that?" he asked, indicating the Laurence Olivier Award he had won for _Best New Musical._

Christine gave him a tired smile and crooked her finger at him. He still could not believe that he won.

"You wrote the music and lyrics for an amazing musical which is sold out six months in advance in Melun _and _London."

She pulled the pins out of her hair. Erik knelt at her feet and began to unbuckle her shoes. That task done, he began to massage her swollen feet. With a sigh, Christine fell back onto the bed. The award ceremony had been almost too much for her to cope with – particularly since she was almost eight months pregnant with their third child; a girl this time. She wondered why she always seemed to be pregnant for Erik's major events.

"How did Francesca cope with that tedious ceremony?" he asked with a smile as he looked up at her.

She laughed and placed a hand over her stomach and watched as Erik dovetailed his fingers between hers. "She was very well behaved and didn't kick too much."

Christine had squeezed Erik's hand in delight when it was announced that his show was one of the nominees for the Olivier Award for the _Best New Musical_. He turned his head to her and smiled. This acknowledgement had been a long time coming.

Following the success of the musical in Melun four years ago, Erik, at Christine's insistence, had translated the book and lyrics into English so that the show could be performed on the West End. He had even managed to convince Jamari and Marcel to make the journey with him to London and reprise their roles. Their talents had already been acknowledged.

Erik waited for the winner to be announced, more patiently than Christine. Her nails were digging into his hand, and if he were correct, she was holding her breath. With the amazing talent that had recently emerged on West End, he did not expect to win.

But he did.

Christine sucked in a big breath of air and gave her husband a hard kiss. It was not until Christine gave his shoulder a shove and he felt strangers' hands clapping him on the back that Erik realised that his musical had won the award.

"I hear the soundtrack has gone triple platinum," Christine said as she pulled two pillows behind her head so that she would be able to see Erik over the bump of her stomach.

Erik shrugged carelessly and lay down beside his wife. He ran the back of his fingers across her cheeks before throwing his arm over her stomach. "I don't understand why."

"It's because of Jamari, naturally!" She laughed and turned her head to kiss him. In the four years that she had known Jamari, the women had become close friends. Jamari and Phoebe had been her bridesmaids. "You never see what I see, Erik. You never see what an amazing husband, father and composer you are. If you-"

He shook his head and kissed her to silence her. "You're biased. Besides, I would never be any of those if it weren't for you. I never would have finished the score if you hadn't entered my life again. I'm a slave to my muse, but you're my inspiration."

Christine smiled brightly and gave him a slow kiss. Feeling light headed, she rose slowly to her feet, tugged on Erik's hand and pulled him to the head of the bed. A few moments later, they were both in their pyjamas, spooned under the blankets. Erik had just fallen asleep when he felt three-year-old Xander climbing into bed between him and Christine. He kissed his son before resting his arm on Christine's stomach, reluctant to break the contact with her.

When dawn finally came, Erik found himself on the edge of the bed. Lifting his head from the pillow he smiled when he saw Antonio asleep on Christine's other side. Xander had not moved from his position between his parents; Christine was wedged between her two sons.

This was how it was supposed to be: surrounded by his family. Erik closed his eyes as he imagined sharing his bed with Christine, Antonio, Xander and soon, Francesca. He reached for Christine's hand and with a smile, Erik drifted back to sleep.


End file.
